feJ33  in 


kSHRjS 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

University  of  North  Carolina  at  Chapel  Hill 


http://archive.org/details/posyringbookofveOOwigg 


THE  POSY  RING 


THE    POSY    RING 

A    BOOK    OF    VERSE    FOR    CHILDREN 
CHOSEN    AND    CLASSIFIED    BY 

&ate  SDouglag  Wi$$in 

AND 


"A  box  of  jewels,  shop  of  rarities, 
A  ring  whose  posy  was  e  My  pleasure ' " 
George  Herbert 


GARDEN  CITY  NEW  YORK 

DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &  COMPANY 
1922 


Copyright,  1903,  by 
DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &  CO. 


-v 


PRINTED  IN  THE  UNITED  STATES 

AT 

THE  COUNTRY  LIFE  PRESS,  GARDEN  CITY,  N.  Y. 


51.982?  C//6     $Z/.0%\r^ll 

A  NOTE 

r 

X  HANKS  are  due  to  the  following  publishers  for  per* 
mission  to  reprint  poems  on  which  they  hold  copyright! 
Charles  Scribner's  Sons,  for  permission  to  use  the 
following  poems  by  Robert  Louis  Stevenson:  "  Wmdy 
Nights,"  "  Where  Go  the  Boats?  "  "  The  Little  Land," 
"  The  Land  of  Story  Books,"  and  "  Bed  Time  ";  for 
the  following  poems  by  Mary  Mapes  Dodge:  "  Nearly 
Ready,"  "Now  the  Noisy  Winds  are  Still,"  "Snow- 
flakes,"  "  Birdies  with  Broken  Wmgs"  and  "  Night 
and  Day  ";  for  the  following  poems  by  Eugene  Field: 
"  Wynken,  Blynken,  and  Nod, "  and  "  Nightfall  in  Dor- 
drecht ";  for  "  Rockaby,  Lullaby,"  by  J.  G.  Holland; 
and  for  "  One,  Two,  Three,"  by  H.  C.  Bunner.  G.  P. 
Putnam's  Sons,  for  permission  to  use  "  High  and  Low," 
by  Dora  Goodale.  D.  Appleton  <§•  Son,  publishers  of 
Bryant's  Complete  Poetical  Works,  for  permission  to 
reprint  "  Robert  of  Lincoln,"  by  W.  C.  Bryant.  E.  P. 
Dutton  6f  Co.,  for  permission  to  reprint  "  The  Birds  m 
Spring,"  by  Thomas  Nashe.  A.  C.  McClurg  Sf  Co.,  for 
permission  to  reprint  "  Baby  Seed  Song  "  and  "  Bird's 
Song  in  Spring,"  by  E.  Nesbit.  The  Century  Com- 
pany, for  permission  to  reprint  the  "  Seal  Lullaby," 


vi  A  NOTE 

by  Rudyard  Kipling.  The  "  Independent,"  for  permit 
sion  to  reprint  "  Baby  Com"  Anon.  Dana,  Estes  fy 
Co.,  for  permission  to  reprint  "  The  Blue  Jay,"  by 
Susan  Hartley  Swett.  Small,  Maynard  Sf  Co.,  for  per- 
mission to  reprint  the  following  poems  by  John  B.  Tabb: 
"  The  Fern  Song,"  "  A  Bunch  of  Roses,"  "  The  Child 
at  Bethlehem."  George  Routledge  fy  Sons,  for  permis- 
sion to  reprint  the  following  poems  by  W.  B.  Rands: 
"The  Child's  World,"  "The  Wonderful  World," 
"  Love  and  the  Child,"  "  Dolladine,"  "  Dressing  the 
Doll,"  "  The  Pedlar's  Caravan,"  and  "  Little  Chris- 
tel ";  also  for  "  Little  White  Lily  "  and  "  What 
Would  You  See?  "  by  George  Macdonald,  and  "  Thi> 
Wind,"  by  L.  E.  Landon.  Houghton,  Mifflin  <§•  Co.t 
for  the  right  to  reprint  the  following  poems:  "  Mar~ 
jorie's  Almanac,"  by  T.  B.  Aldrich;  "  Dandelion"  by 
Helen  Grey  Cone;  "  The  Fairies'  Shopping "  and 
"  The  Christmas  Silence,"  by  Margaret  Deland;  "  The 
Titmouse  "  and  "  Fable,"  by  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson; 
"  Hiawatha's  Chickens  "  and  "  Hiawatha's  Brothers," 
by  Henry  W.  Longfellow;  "  The  Fountam,"  by  James 
Russell  Lowell;  "  The  Rivulet,"  by  Lucy  Larcom; 
"The  Coming  of  Spring,"  by  Nora  Perry;  "May," 
"The  Waterfall,"  "Clouds,"  and  "Bells  of  Christ- 
mas," by  Frank  Dempster  Sherman;  "  What  the  Winds 
Bring "  and  "  The  Singer,"  by  E.  C.  Stedman; 
"  Spring,"  "  Wild  Geese,"  "  Chanticleer,"  and  "  Little 
Gustava,"  by  Celia  Thaxter.  Little,  Brown  fy  Co.,  for 
the  right  to  reprint  "  September,"  by  Helen  Hunt 
Jackson;  "  When  the  Leaves  Come  Down,"  by  Susan 


A   NOTE  vii 

Coolidge;  and  "  Summer  Days,"  "  A  Year's  Windfalls," 
"  The  Flower  Folk,"  "  There's  Nothing  Like  the  Rose," 
"Milking  Time,"  "A  Chill,"  and  "A  Birthday  Gift," 
by  Christina  G.  Rossetti.  St.  Nicholas,  for  permission 
to  reprint  "  The  Little  Elf,"  by  John  Kendrick  Bangs. 
The  Macmillan  Company,  for  permission  to  reprint  "  O 
Lady  Moon,"  by  Christina  G.  Rossetti,  and  "  Why  Do 
Bells  of  Christmas  Ring?  "  by  Mrs.  Ward.  Frederick 
Warne  fy  Co.,  for  permission  to  reprint  "  By  Cool 
Siloam's  Shady  Rill,"  by  Reginald  Heber.  Cassell  Sfi 
Co.,  Ltd.,  for  permission  to  reprint  "  The  Last  Voyage 
of  the  Fairies,"  by  W.  H.  Davenport  Adams. 


CONTENTS 

* 

A  YEAR'S  WINDFALLS 

Marj  one's  Almanac.     By  Thomas  Bailey  Aldrkh        & 

In  February.     By  John  Addington  Symonds  5 

March.     By  William  Wordsworth  6 

Nearly  Ready.     By  Mary  Mapes  Dodge  7 

Spring  Song.     By  George  Eliot  T 

In  April.     By  Elizabeth  Alters  8 

Spring.     By  Celia  Thaxter  9 

The  Voice  of  Spring.     By  Mary  Howitt  10 

The  Coming  of  Spring.     By  Nora  Perry  11 

May.     By  FranJc  Dempster  Sherman  13 

Spring  and  Summer.     By  "A.""  14 

Summer  Days.     By  Christina  G.  Rosaetti  15 

September.     By  H,  H.  16 

How  the  Leaves  Came  Down.     By  Susan  Coolidge    17 

Winter  Night.     By  Mary  F.  Butts  19 

A  Year's  Windfalls.     By  Christina  G.  Rossetti  20 

xi 


Page 


xii  CONTENTS 

THE  CHILD'S  WORLD 

The  Wonderful    World.     By    William   Brighty 

Rands  27 

A  Day.     By  Emily  Dickinson  28 

Good-Morning.     By  Robert  Browning  29 
What  the  Winds  Bring.     By  Edmimd  Clarence 

Stedman  29 

Lady  Moon.     By  Lord  Houghton  30 

O  Lady  Moon.     By  Christina  G.  Rossetti  31 

Windy  Nights.     By  Robert  Louis  Stevenson  31 

Wild  Winds.     By  Mary  F.  Butts  32 
Now  the  Noisy  Winds  are  Still.     By  Marry  Mapes 

Dodge  33 

The  Wind.     Letitia  E.  Landon  33 

The  Fountain.     By  James  Russell  Lowell  34 

The  Waterfall.     By  Frank  Dempster  Sherman  35 

The  Voice  of  the  Grass.     By  Sarah  Roberts  Boyle  36 

The  Wind  in  a  Frolic.     By  William  Howitt  38 

Clouds.     By  Frank  Dempster  Sherman  40 

Signs  of  Rain.     By  Edward  Jenner  41 

A  Sudden  Shower.     By  James  Whitcomb  Riley  43 

Strange  Lands     By  Laurence  Alma  Tadema  44 

Guessing  Song.     By  Henry  Johnstone  4*5 

The  Rivulet.     By  Lucy  Larcom  4<6 

Jack  Frost.     By  Hannah  F.  Goidd  47 

Snowflakes.     By  Mary  Mapes  Dodge  49 

The  Water !  The  Water.     By  William  Motherwell  49 


CONTENTS  xni 

HIAWATHA'S  CHICKENS  Pftg6 

The  Swallows.     By   Edwin  Arnold  53 

The  Swallow's  Nest.     By  Edioin  Arnold  53 

The  Birds  in  Spring.     By  Thomas  Nashe  54 

Robin  Redbreast.     By  William  Allingham  54 

The  Lark  and  the  Rook.      Unknown  56 

The  Snowbird.  By  Hezekiah  Butterworih  57 
Who  Stole  the  Bird's  Nest?     By  Lydia  Maria 

Child  59 
Answer  to  a  Child's  Question.     By  Samuel  Taylor 

Coleridge  62 

The  Burial  of  the  Linnet.     By  Juliana  H.  Ewing  63 

The  Titmouse.     By  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson  64 

Birds  in  Summer.  By  Mary  Howitt  65 
An  Epitaph  on  a  Robin  Redbreast.      By  Samuel 

Rogers  67 

The  Bluebird.     By  Emily  Huntington  Miller  68 

Song.  By  John  Keats  69 
What  Does  Little  Birdie  Say  ?     By  Alfred^  Lord 

Tennyson  69 

The  Owl.     By  Alfred^  Lord  Tennyson  70 

Wild  Geese.     By  Celia  Thaxter  71 

Chanticleer.     By  Celia  Thaxter  72 

The  Singer.     By  Edmund  Clarence  Stedman  73 

The  Blue  Jay.     By  Susan  Hartley  Swett  74 

Robert  of  Lincoln.     By  William  Cullen  Bryant  75 


xiv  CONTENTS 

HIAWATHA'S  CHICKENS— Continued 

Page 

White  Butterflies.     By  Algernon  C.  Swinburne  78 

The  Ant  and  the  Cricket.     Unknown  78 

THE  FLOWER  FOLK 

Little  White  Lily.     By  George  Macdonald  83 

Violets.     By  Dinah  Maria  Mulock  85 

Young  Dandelion.     By  Dinah  Maria  Mulock  86 

Baby  Seed  Song.     By  E.  Nesbit  88 

A  Violet  Bank.     By  William  Shakespeare  88 
There's  Nothing  Like  the  Rose.     By  Christina  G. 

Rossetti  89 

Snowdrops.     By  Laurence  Alma  Tadema  89 

Fern  Song.     By  John  B.  Tabb  90 

The  Violet.     By  Jane  Taylor  90 

Daffy-Down-Dilly.     By  Anna  B.  Warner  91 

Baby  Corn.     By  Lydia  Avery  Coonley  Ward  93 

A  Child's  Fancy.     By  "  A?  95 

Little  Dandelion.     By  Helen  B.  Bostwick  97 

Dandelions.     By  Helen  Gray  Cone  98 

The  Flax  Flower.     By  Mary  Hoivitt  99 

Dear  Little  Violets.      By  John  Moultrie  101 

Bird's  Song  in  Spring.     By  E.  Nesbit  102 

The  Tree.     By  Bjornstjerne  Bjoornson  102 

The  Daisy's  Song.     By  John  Keats  103 

Song.     By  Thomas  Love  Peacock  104 

For  Good  Luck.     By  Juliana  Horatia  Ewing  105 


CONTENTS  xv 

HIAWATHA'S  BROTHERS 

Page 
My  Pony.     By  "J."  109 

On  a  Spaniel,  Called  Beau,  Killing  a  Young  Bird. 

By  William  Cowper  111 

Beau's  Reply.     By  William  Cowper  112 

Seal  Lullaby.     By  Rudy <ard  Kipling1  113 

Milking  Time.     By  Christina  G.  Rossetti  113 

Thank  You,  Pretty  Cow.     By  Jane  Taylor  114 

The  Boy  and  the  Sheep.     By  Ann  Taylor  114 

Lambs    in    the    Meadow.      By   Laurence   Alma 

Tadema  115 

The  Pet  Lamb.     By  William  Wordsworth  116 

The  Kitten,  and   Falling   Leaves.     By    William 

Wordsworth  121 

OTHER  LITTLE  CHILDREN 

Where  Go  the  Boats  ?  By  Robert  Louis  Stevenson  1 25 
Cleanliness.     By  Charles  and  Mary  Lamb  126 

Wishing.     By  William  Allingham  127 

The  Boy.     By  William  Allingham  128 

Infant  Joy.     By  William  Blake  129 

A  Blessing  for  the  Blessed.     By  Laurence  Alma 

Tadema  129 

Piping  Down  the  Valleys  Wild.  By  William  Blake  131 
A  Sleeping  Child.     By  Arthur  Hugh  Clough  132 

Birdies  with  Broken  Wings.     By  Mary  Mapes 

Dodge  183 


xvi  CONTENTS 

OTHER   LITTLE    CHILDREN— Continued 

Page 

Seven  Times  One.     By  Jean  Ingelow  133 

I  Remember,  I  Remember.  By  Thomas  Hood  135 
Good-Night  and  Good-Morning.  By  Laid  Hough- 
ton 136 
Little  Children.  By  Mary  Howitt  137 
The  Angel's  Whisper.  By  Samuel  Lover  139 
Little  Garaine.  By  Sir  Gilbert  Parker  140 
A  Letter.  By  Matthew  Prior  141 
Love  and  the  Child.  By  William  Brighty  Rands  142 
Polly.  By  William  Brighty  Rands  143 
A  Chill.  By  Christina  G.  Rossetti  144 
A  Child's  Laughter.  By  Algernon  C.  Swinburne  145 
The  World's  Music.  By  Gabriel  Setoun  146 
The  Little  Land.  By  Robert  Louis  Stevenson  148 
In  a  Garden.  By  Algernon  C.  Swinburne  151 
Little  Gustava.  By  Celia  Thaxter  152 
A  Bunch  of  Roses.  By  John  B.  Tabb  155 
The  Child  at  Bethlehem.  By  John  B.  Tabb  155 
After  the  Storm.  By  W.  M.  Thackeray  156 
Lucy  Gray.  By  William  Wordsworth  156 
Deaf  and  Dumb.  By  "  AP  159 
The  Blind  Boy.     By  Colley  Cibber  160 

PLAY-TIME 

A  Boy's  Song.     By  James  Hogg  165 

The  Lost  Doll.     By  Charles  Kingsley  H66 


CONTENTS  xvii 

PLAY-TIME— Continued  p>g6 

Dolladine.     By  William  Briglity  Rands  167 

Dressing  the  Doll.     By  William  Brighty  Bands  167 

The  Pedlar's  Caravan.     By  William  Briglity  Rands  170 
A   Sea-Song  from  the   Shore.      James   Whitcomb 

Riley  171 
The  Land  of  Story-Books.    By  Robert  Louis  Ste- 
venson 172 

The  City  Child.     By  Alfred,  Lord  Tennyson  173 

Going  into  Breeches.     By  Charles  and  Mary  Lamb  174 

Hunting  Song.     By  Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge  176 

Hie  Away.     By  Sir  Walter  Scott  176 

STORY  TIME 

The  Fairy  Folk.  By  Robert  Bird  181 
A  Fairy  in  Armor.  By  Joseph  Rodman  Drake  183 
The  Last  Voyage  of  the  Fairies.  By  W.  H.  Daven- 
port Adams  184 
A  New  Fern.  By  "  A?  186 
The  Child  and  the  Fairies.  By  « A?  187 
The  Little  Elf.  By  John  KendricJe  Bangs  188 
"  One,  Two,  Three."  By  Henry  C.  Bunner  188 
What  May  Happen  to  a  Thimble.  By  "  Br  190 
Discontent.  By  Sarah  Orne  Jewett  193 
The  Nightingale  and  the  Glowworm.    By  William 

Cowper  195 

Thanksgiving  Day.     By  Lydia  Maria  Child  196 


xviii  CONTENTS 

STORY    TIME— Continued  ^ 

A  Thanksgiving  Fable.     By  Oliver  Herford  197 

The  Magpie's  Nest.     By  Charles  and  Mary  Lamb  198 

The  Owl  and  the  Pussy-Cat.     By  Edward  Lear  201 

A  Lobster  Quadrille.     By  Lewis  Can-oil  202 

The  Fairies1  Shopping.     By  Margaret  Deland  204 

Fable.     By  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson  206 

A  Midsummer  Song.     By  Richard  Watson  Gilder  207 

The  Fairies  of  the  Caldon-Low.     By  Mary  Howitt  209 

The  Elf  and  the  Dormouse.     By  Oliver  Herford  213 

Meg  Merrilies.     By  John  Keats  214 

Romance.     By  Gabriel  Setoun  215 

The  Cow-Boy's  Song.     By  Anna  M.  Wells  217 

BED  TIME 

Auld  Daddy  Darkness.  By  James  Ferguson  221 
Wynken,  Blynken,  and  Nod.  By  Eugene  Field  222 
Rockaby,  Lullaby.  By  Josiah  Gilbert  Holland  224 
Sleep,  My  Treasure.  By  E.  Nesbit  225 
Lullaby  of  an  Infant  Chief.  By  Sir  Walter  ScoU  226 
Sweet  and  Low.  By  Alfred,  Lord  Tennyson  227 
Old  Gaelic  Lullaby.  Unknown  223 
The  Sandman.  By  Margaret  Vandegrift  228 
The  Cottager  to  Her  Infant.  By  Dorothy  Words- 
worth 230 
A  Charm  to  Call  Sleep.  By  Henry  Johnstone  231 
Night.     By  Mary  F.  Butts        t  232 


CONTENTS  xix 

BED   TIME— Continued 

Page 

Bed-Time.     By  Lord  Rosslyn  232 

Nightfall  in  Dordrecht.     By  Eugene  Field  288 

FOR  SUNDAY'S  CHILD 

All  Things  Bright  and  Beautiful.     By  Cecil  F. 

Alexander  287 

The  Still  Small  Voice.     By  Alexander  Smart  238 

The  Camel's  Nos>e.     By  Lydia  H.  Sigourney  240 

A  Child's  Grace.     By  Robert  Burns  241 

A  Child's  Thought   of  God.     By  Elizabeth  B. 

Browning  241 

The  Lamb.     By  William  Blake  242 

Night  and  Day.     By  Mary  Mapes  Dodge  243 

High  and  Low.     By  Dora  Bead  Goodale  244 

By  Cool  Siloam's  Shady  Rill.  By  Reginald  Heber  244 
Sheep  and  Lambs.  By  Katharine  Tynan  Hwikson  245 
To  His  Saviour,  a  Child ;  A  Present  by  a  Child. 

By  Robert  BerricJc  246 

What  Would  You  See  r  Bj  George  Macdonald  247 
Corn-Fields.     By  Mary  Howitt  248 

Little  Christel.     By  William  Brighty  Rands  250 

A  Child's  Prayer.     By  M.  Betham  Edwards  252 

HELLS  OF  CHRISTMAS 
The  Adoration  of  the  Wise  Men.     By  Cecil  F, 

Alexander  257 

Cradle  Hymn.     By  Isaac  Watts  258 


xx  CONTENTS 

BELLS    OF   CHRISTMAS— Continued  _  _ 

The  Christmas  Silence.     By  Margaret  Deland  260 

An  Offertory.     By  Mary  Mapes  Dodge  261 

Christmas  Song.     By  Lydia  Avery  Coonley  Ward  261 

A  Visit  from  St.  Nicholas.     By  Clement  C.  Moore  262 

The  Christmas  Trees.     By  Mary  F.  Butts  265 

A  Birthday  Gift.     By  Christina  G.  Rossetti  267 
A  Christmas  Lullaby.     By  John  Addington  Sy- 

monds  267 
I  Saw  Three  Ships.  Old  Carol  268 
Santa  Clans.  Unknown  269 
Neighbors  of  the  Christ  Night.  By  Nora  Archi- 
bald Smith  271 
Cradle  Hymn.  By  Martin  Luther  272 
The  Christmas  Holly.     By  Eliza  Cools  *73 


THE  POSY  RING 


A  YEAR'S   WINDFALLS 

jj?     a? 

FF^o  comes  dancing  over  the  snow, 
His  soft  little  feet  all  bare  and  rosy  ? 

Open  the  door,  though  the  wild  winds  blow* 
Take  the  child  in  and  make  him  cosy. 
Take  him  in  and  hold  him  dear, 
He  is  the  wonderful  glad  New  Year, 

Dinah  M.  Muloch 


YEAR'S    WINDFALLS 

r 

Marjorie's  Almanac 
Robins  in  the  tree-top, 

Blossoms  in  the  grass, 
Green  things  a-growing 

Everywhere  you  pass ; 
Sudden  little  breezes, 

Showers  of  silver  dew, 
Black  bough  and  bent  twig 

Budding  out  anew ; 
Pine-tree  and  willow-tree, 

Fringed  elm  and  larch, — 
Don't  you  think  that  May-time's 

Pleasanter  than  March  ? 

Apples  in  the  orchard 

Mellowing  one  by  one ; 
Strawberries  upturning 

Soft  cheeks  to  the  sun; 
Roses  faint  with  sweetness, 

Lilies  fair  of  face, 
Drowsy  scents  and  murmurs 

Haunting  every  place ; 


THE  POSY  RING 

Lengths  of  golden  sunshine, 
Moonlight  bright  as  day, — 

Don't  you  think  that  summer's 
Pleasanter  than  May  ? 

Roger  in  the  corn -patch 

Whistling  negro  songs  ; 
Pussy  by  the  hearth-side 

Romping  with  the  tongs ; 
Chestnuts  in  the  ashes 

Bursting  through  the  rind ; 
Red  leaf  and  gold  leaf 

Rustling  down  the  wind  ; 
Mother  "  doin'  peaches  " 

All  the  afternoon, — 
Don't  you  think  that  autumn's 

Pleasanter  than  June  ? 

Little  fairy  snow-flakes 

Dancing  in  the  flue; 
Old  Mr.  Santa  Claus, 

What  is  keeping  you  ? 
Twilight  and  firelight 

Shadows  come  and  go; 
Merry  chime  of  sleigh-bells 

Tinkling  through  the  snow;  " 
Mother  knitting  stockings 

(Pussy's  got  the  ball), — 


THE  POSY   RING  5 

Don't  you  think  that  winter's 
Pleasanter  than  all  ? 

Thomas  Bailey  Aldrich. 

r 

In  February 
The  birds  have  been  singing  to-day, 

And  saying :  "  The  spring  is  near ! 
The  sun  is  as  warm  as  in  May, 

And  the  deep  blue  heavens  are  clear." 

The  little  bird  on  the  boughs 

Of  the  sombre  snow-laden  pine 
Thinks :  "  Where  shall  I  build  me  my  house, 

And  how  shall  I  make  it  fine  ? 

"  For  the  season  of  snow  is  jpast ; 

The  mild  south  wind  is  on  high ; 
And  the  scent  of  the  spring  is  cast 

From  his  wing  as  he  hurries  by.** 

The  little  birds  twitter  and  cheep 
To  their  loves  on  the  leafless  larch; 

But  seven  feet  deep  the  snow-wreaths  sleep, 
And  the  year  hath  not  worn  to  March. 

John  Addington  Symonds* 


THE   POSY   RING 

March 

The  cock  is  crowing, 

The  stream  is  flowing, 

The  small  birds  twitter, 

The  lake  doth  glitter, 
The  green  field  sleeps  in  the  sun ; 

The  oldest  and  youngest 

Are  at  work  with  the  strongest; 

The  cattle  are  grazing, 

Their  heads  never  raising; 
There  are  forty  feeding  like  one. 

Like  an  army  defeated 

The  snow  hath  retreated, 

And  now  doth  fare  ill 

On  the  top  of  the  bare  hill ; 
The  ploughboy  is  whooping — anon — anonf 

There's  joy  on  the  mountains  ; 

There's  life  in  the  fountains  ; 

Small  clouds  are  sailing, 

Blue  sky  prevailing ; 
The  rain  is  over  and  gone. 

William  Wordsworth. 


THE  POSY  RING 

Nearly  Ready* 
In  the  snowing  and  the  blowing, 

In  the  cruel  sleet, 
Little  flowers  begin  their  growing 

Far  beneath  our  feet. 
Softly  taps  the  Spring,  and  cheerly, 

"  Darlings,  are  you  here  ?  " 
Till  they  answer,  "  We  are  nearly, 

Nearly  ready,  dear." 

"  Where  is  Winter,  with  his  snowing  ? 

Tell  us,  Spring,"  they  say. 
Then  she  answers,  "  He  is  going, 

Going  on  his  way. 
Poor  old  Winter  does  not  love  you  ; 

But  his  time  is  past ; 
Soon  my  birds  shall  sing  above  vou, — 

Set  you  free  at  last." 

Mary  Mapes  Dodge. 


Spring  Song 

Spring  comes  hither, 

Buds  the  rose; 
Roses  wither, 

Sweet  spring  goes. 

*  From  "  Rhymes  and  Jingle*,"  by  Mary  Mopes  Dodge.    By  permit' 
mon  of  Charles  Scribner's  Son*. 


8  THE  POSY  RING 

Summer  soars, — 

Wide-winged  day ; 
White  light  pours, 
Flies  away. 

Soft  winds  blow, 

Westward  born; 
Onward  go, 

Toward  the  morn. 

George  Eliot. 

r 

In  April 
The  poplar  drops  beside  the  way 
Its  tasselled  plumes  of  silver-gray ; 
The  chestnut  pouts  its  great  brown  buds 
Impatient  for  the  laggard  May. 

The  honeysuckles  lace  the  wall, 
The  hyacinths  grow  fair  and  tall ; 
And  mellow  sun  and  pleasant  wind 
And  odorous  bees  are  over  all. 

Elizabeth  Akers. 

r 


THE   POSY  RING 

Spring 
The  alder  by  the  river 

Shakes  out  her  powdery  curls ; 
The  willow  buds  in  silver 

For  little  boys  and  girls. 

The  little  birds  fly  over, 
And  oh,  how  sweet  they  sing ! 

To  tell  the  happy  children 
That  once  again  'tis  spring. 

The  gay  green  grass  comes  creeping 

So  soft  beneath  their  feet ; 
The  frogs  begin  to  ripple 

A  music  clear  and  sweet. 

And  buttercups  are  coming, 

And  scarlet  columbine ; 
And  in  the  sunny  meadows 

The  dandelions  shine. 

And  just  as  many  daisies 
As  their  soft  hands  can  hold 

The  little  ones  may  gather, 
All  fair  in  white  and  gold. 

Here  blows  the  warm  red  clover, 
There  peeps  the  violet  blue ; 

O  happy  little  children, 

God  made  them  all  for  you  ! 

Celia  Thaxter. 


10  THE   POSY  RING 

The  Voice  of  Spring 
I  am  coming,  I  am  coming  1 
Hark !  the  little  bee  is  humming; 
See,  the  lark  is  soaring  high 
In  the  blue  and  sunny  sky; 
And  the  gnats  are  on  the  wing, 
Wheeling  round  in  airy  ring. 

See,  the  yellow  catkins  cover 
All  the  slender  willows  over  ! 
And  on  the  banks  of  mossy  green 
Star-like  primroses  are  seen ; 
And,  their  clustering  leaves  below, 
White  and  purple  violets  blow. 

Hark  !  the  new-born  lambs  are  bleating, 
And  the  cawing  rooks  are  meeting 
In  the  elms, — a  noisy  crowd ; 
All  the  birds  are  singing  loud  ; 
And  the  first  white  butterfly 
In  the  sunshine  dances  by. 

Look  around  thee,  look  around ! 
Flowers  in  all  the  fields  abound ; 
Every  running  stream  is  bright ; 
All  the  orchard  trees  are  white; 
And  each  small  and  waving  shoot 
Promises  sweet  flowers  and  fruit. 


THE  POSY   RING  11 

Turn  thine  eyes  to  earth  and  heaven : 
God  for  thee  the  spring  has  given, 
Taught  the  birds  their  melodies, 
Clothed  the  earth,  and  cleared  the  skies, 
For  thy  pleasure  or  thy  food  : 
Pour  thy  soul  in  gratitude. 

Mary  Howitt. 

r 

The  Coming  of  Spring 
There's  something  in  the  air 
That's  new  and  sweet  and  rare — 
A  scent  of  summer  things, 
A  whir  as  if  of  wings. 

There's  something,  too,  that's  new 
In  the  color  of  the  blue 
That's  in  the  morning  sky, 
Before  the  sun  is  high. 

And  though  on  plain  and  hill 
'Tis  winter,  winter  still, 
There's  something  seems  to  say 
That  winter's  had  its  day. 

And  all  this  changing  tint, 
This  whispering  stir  and  hint 
Of  bud  and  bloom  and  wing, 
Is  the  coming  of  the  spring. 


12  THE   POSY   RING 

And  to-morrow  or  to-day 
The  brooks  will  break  away 
From  their  icy,  frozen  sleep, 
And  run,  and  laugh,  and  leap. 

And  the  next  thing,  in  the  woods, 
The  catkins  in  their  hoods 
Of  fur  and  silk  will  stand, 
A  sturdy  little  band. 

And  the  tassels  soft  and  fine 
Of  the  hazel  will  entwine, 
And  the  elder  branches  show 
Their  buds  against  the  snow. 

So,  silently  but  swift, 
Above  the  wintry  drift, 
The  long  days  gain  and  gain, 
Until  on  hill  and  plain, — 

Once  more,  and  yet  once  more, 
Returning  as  before, 
We  see  the  bloom  of  birth 
Make  young  again  the  earth. 

Nora  Perry. 


THE  POSY  RING  13 

May 
May  shall  make  the  world  anew; 
Golden  sun  and  silver  dew, 
Money  minted  in  the  sky, 
Shall  the  earth's  new  garments  t>uy. 
May  shall  make  the  orchards  bloom; 
And  the  blossoms'  fine  perfume 
Shall  set  all  the  honey-bees 
Murmuring  among  the  trees. 
May  shall  make  the  bud  appear 
Like  a  jewel,  crystal  clear, 
'Mid  the  leaves  upon  the  limb 
Where  the  robin  lilts  his  hymn. 
May  shall  make  the  wild  flowers  tel\ 
Where  the  shining  snowflakes  fell; 
Just  as  though  each  snow-flake's  heas& 
By  some  secret,  magic  art, 
Were  transmuted  to  a  flower 
In  the  sunlight  and  the  shower. 
Is  there  such  another,  pray, 
Wonder- making  month  as  May? 

Frank  Dempster  Sherman, 


14  THE   POSY  RING 

Spring  and  Summer 
Spring  is  growing  up, 

Is  not  it  a  pity? 
She  was  such  a  little  thing, 

And  so  very  pretty  ! 
Summer  is  extremely  grand, 

We  must  pay  her  duty, 
(But  it  is  to  little  Spring 

That  she  owes  her  beauty  I) 

All  the  buds  are  blown, 

Trees  are  dark  and  shady, 
(It  was  Spring  who  dress'd  them,  though, 

Such  a  little  lady  !) 
And  the  birds  sing  loud  and  sweet 

Their  enchanting  hist'ries, 
(It  was  Spring  who  taught  them,  though? 

Such  a  singing  mistress  !) 

From  the  glowing  sky 

Summer  shines  above  us ; 
Spring  was  such  a  little  dear, 

But  will  Summer  love  us  ? 
She  is  very  beautiful, 

With  her  grown-up  blisses, 
Summer  we  must  bow  before; 

Spring  we  coaxed  with  kisses  ! 


THE   POSY   RING  15 

Spring  is  growing  up, 

Leaving  us  so  lonely, 
In  the  place  of  little  Spring 

We  have  Summer  only ! 
Summer  with  her  lofty  airs, 

And  her  stately  faces, 
In  the  place  of  little  Spring, 

With  her  childish  graces  1 

"A/5 

r 

Summer  Days 
Winter  is  cold-hearted ; 

Spring  is  yea  and  nay; 
Autumn  is  a  weathercock, 

Blown  every  way  : 
Summer  days  for  me, 
When  every  leaf  is  on  its  tree, 

When  Robin's  not  a  beggar, 

And  Jenny  Wren's  a  bride, 
And  larks  hang,  singing,  singing,  singing, 

Over  the  wheat-fields  wide, 

And  anchored  lilies  ride, 
And  the  pendulum  spider 

Swings  from  side  to  side, 

And  blue-black  beetles  transact  business, 
And  gnats  fly  in  a  host, 


16  THE  POSY  RING 

And  furry  caterpillars  hasten 

That  no  time  be  lost, 
And  moths  grow  fat  and  thrive, 
And  ladybirds  arrive. 

Before  green  apples  blush, 
Before  green  nuts  embrown, 

Why,  one  day  in  the  country 
Is  worth  a  month  in  town — 
Is  worth  a  day  and  a  year 

Of  the  dusty,  musty,  lag-last  fashion 
That  days  drone  elsewhere. 

Christina  G.  RossettL 

r 

September 
The  goldenrod  is  yellow, 

The  corn  is  turning  brown, 
The  trees  in  apple  orchards 

With  fruit  are  bending  down ; 

The  gentian's  bluest  fringes 
Are  curling  in  the  sun ; 

In  dusty  pods  the  milkweed 
Its  hidden  silk  has  spun  ; 

The  sedges  flaunt  their  harvest 
In  every  meadow  nook, 

And  asters  by  the  brookside 
Make  asters  in  the  brook; 


THE  POSY  RING  17 

From  dewy  lanes  at  morning 
The  grapes'  sweet  odors  rise; 

At  noon  the  roads  all  flutter 
With  yellow  butterflies — 

By  all  these  lovely  tokens 

September  days  are  here, 
With  summer's  best  of  weather 

And  autumn's  best  of  cheer. 

H.  H, 

r 

How  the  Leaves  Came  Down 
I'll  tell  you  how  the  leaves  came  down. 

The  great  Tree  to  his  children  said, 
*  You're  getting  sleepy,  Yellow  and  Brown, 

Yes,  very  sleepy,  little  Red; 

It  is  quite  time  you  went  to  bed." 

"  Ah  ! "  begged  each  silly,  pouting  leaf, 

"  Let  us  a  little  longer  stay ; 
Dear  Father  Tree,  behold  our  grief, 

Tis  such  a  very  pleasant  day 

We  do  not  want  to  go  away." 

S«,  just  for  one  more  merry  day 

*J?o  the  great  Tree  the  leaflets  clung, 

Frolicked  and  danced  and  had  their  way, 
Upm  the  autumn  breezes  swung, 
Whispering  all  their  sports  among, 


18  THE   POSY   RING 

*  *  Perhaps  the  great  Tree  will  forget 
And  let  us  stay  until  the  spring, 

If  we  all  beg  and  coax  and  fret." 

But  the  great  Tree  did  no  such  thing ; 
He  smiled  to  hear  their  whispering. 

"Come,  children  all,  to  bed,"  he  cried; 

And  ere  the  leaves  could  urge  their  prayer 

He  shook  his  head,  and  far  and  wide, 
Fluttering  and  rustling  everywhere, 
Down  sped  the  leaflets  through  the  air. 

I  saw  them ;  on  the  ground  they  lay, 
Golden  and  red,  a  L  iddled  swarm, 

TVc   l'r\g  till  one  from  far  away, 

Wiiite  bed-clothes  he       d  upon  her  arm, 
Should  come  to  wrap    nem  safe  and  warm. 

The  great  bare  Tree  looked  down  and  smile  1 
"  Good-night,  dear  little  leaves,"  he  said 

And  from  below  each  sleepy  child 

Replied  "  Good-night,"  and  murmured. 
"  It  is  so  nice  to  go  to  bed." 

Susan  Coolidgf- 


THE   POSY   RING  19 

Winter  Night 

Blow,  wind,  blow  ! 

Drift  the  flying  snow  ! 
Send  it  twirling,  whirling  overhead ! 

There's  a  bedroom  in  a  tree 

Where,  snug  as  snug  can  be, 
The  squirrel  nests  in  his  cosey  bed. 

Shriek,  wind,  shriek ! 

Make  the  branches  creak ! 
Battle  with  the  boughs  till  break  o'  day  ! 

In  a  snow-cave  warm  and  tight, 

Through  the  icy  winder  night 
The  rabbit  sleeps  the  peaceful  hours  away. 

Call,  wind,  call^qfi-j 

In  entry  and  in  h>H, 
Straight  from  off  the  mountain  white  and  wild ! 

Soft  purrs  the  pussy-cat 

On  her  little  fluffy  mat, 
And  beside  her  nestles  close  her  furry  child. 

Scold,  wind,  scold, 

So  bitter  and  so  bold ! 
Shake  the  windows  with  your  tap,  tap,  tap ! 

With  half-shut,  dreamy  eyes 

The  drowsy  baby  lies 
Cuddled  closely  in  his  mother's  lap. 

Mary  F.  Butts. 


THE   POSY  RING 

A   Years   Windfalls 
On  the  wind  of  January 

Down  flits  the  snow, 
Travelling  from  the  frozen  North 

As  cold  as  it  can  blow. 
Poor  robin  redbreast, 

Look  where  he  comes  ; 
Let  him  in  to  feel  your  fire, 

And  toss  him  of  your  crumbs. 

On  the  wind  in  February 

Snowflakes  float  still, 
Half  inclined  to  turn  to  rain, 

Nipping,  dripping,  chill. 
Then  the  thaws  swell  the  streams, 

And  swollen  rivers  swell  the  sea  :— 
If  the  winter  ever  ends 

How  pleasant  it  will  be. 

In  the  wind  of  windy  March 

The  catkins  drop  down, 
Curly,  caterpillar-like, 

Curious  green  and  brown. 
With  concourse  of  nest-building  birds 

And  leaf-buds  by  the  way, 
We  begin  to  think  of  flowers 

And  life  and  nuts  some  day. 


THE   POSY  RING  21 

With  the  gusts  of  April 

Rich  fruit-tree  blossoms  fall, 
On  the  hedged-in  orchard-green, 

From  the  southern  wall. 
Apple-trees  and  pear-trees 

Shed  petals  white  or  pink, 
Plum-trees  and  peach-trees ; 

While  sharp  showers  sink  and  sink. 

Little  brings  the  May  breeze 

Beside  pure  scent  of  flowers, 
While  all  things  wax  and  nothing  wanes 

In  lengthening  daylight  hours. 
Across  the  hyacinth  beds 

The  wind  lags  warm  and  sweet, 
Across  the  hawthorn  tops, 

Across  the  blades  of  wheat. 

In  the  wind  of  sunny  June 

Thrives  the  red  rose  crop, 
Every  day  fresh  blossoms  blow 

While  the  first  leaves  drop ; 
White  rose  and  yellow  rose 

And  moss  rose  choice  to  find, 
And  the  cottage  cabbage-rose 

Not  one  whit  behind. 

On  the  blast  of  scorched  July 
Drives  the  pelting  hail, 


22  THE   POSY   RING 

From  thunderous  lightning- clouds,  that  blot 

Blue  heaven  grown  lurid-pale. 
Weedy  waves  are  tossed  ashore, 

Sea- things  strange  to  sight 
Gasp  upon  the  barren  shore 

And  fade  away  in  light. 

In  the  parching  August  wind 

Corn-fields  bow  the  head, 
Sheltered  in  round  valley  depths, 

On  low  hills  outspread. 
Early  leaves  drop  loitering  down 

Weightless  on  the  breeze, 
First  fruits  of  the  year's  decay 

From  the  withering  trees. 

In  brisk  wind  of  September 

The  heavy-headed  fruits 
Shake  upon  their  bending  boughs 

And  drop  from  the  shoots ; 
Some  glow  golden  in  the  sun, 

Some  show  green  and  streaked, 
Some  set  forth  a  purple  bloom, 

Some  blush  rosy-cheeked. 

In  strong  blast  of  October 

At  the  equinox, 
Stirred  up  in  his  hollow  bed 

Broad  ocean  rocks; 


THE  POSY  RING  23 

Plunge  the  ships  on  his  bosom, 

Leaps  and  plunges  the  foam, 
It's  oh  !  for  mothers'  sons  at  sea, 

That  they  were  safe  at  home. 

In  slack  wind  of  November 

The  fog  forms  and  shifts ; 
All  the  world  comes  out  again 

When  the  fog  lifts. 
Loosened  from  their  sapless  twigs 

Leaves  drop  with  every  gust ; 
Drifting,  rustling,  out  of  sight 

In  the  damp  or  dust. 

Last  of  all,  December, 

The  year's  sands  nearly  run, 
Speeds  on  the  shortest  day, 

Curtails  the  sun  ; 
With  its  bleak  raw  wind 

Lays  the  last  leaves  low, 
Brings  back  the  nightly  frosts, 

Brings  back  the  snow. 

Christina  G.  RossettL 


THE  CHILDS  WORLD 

r    r 

r 

Great,  wide,  beautiful,  wonderful  World, 
With  the  wonderful  water  round  you  curled, 
And  the  wonderful  grass  upon  your  breast, 
World,  you  are  beautifully  drest. 

William  Brighty  Rands. 


THE    CHILD'S    WORLD 

r 

The  Wonderful  World 
Great,  wide,  beautiful,  wonderful  World, 
With  the  wonderful  water  round  you  curled, 
And  the  wonderful  grass  upon  your  breast, 
World,  you  are  beautifully  drest. 

The  wonderful  air  is  over  me, 
And  the  wonderful  wind  is  shaking  the  tree — 
It  walks  on  the  water,  and  whirls  the  mills, 
And  talks  to  itself  on  the  top  of  the  hills. 

You  friendly  Earth,  how  far  do  you  go, 

With  the  wheat-fields  that  nod  and  the  rivers 

that  flow, 
With  cities  and  gardens,  and  cliffs  and  isles, 
And  people  upon  you  for  thousands  of  miles  ? 

Ah !   you  are  so  great,  and  I  am  so  small, 
I  hardly  can  think  of  you,  World,  at  all ; 
And  yet,  when  I  said  my  prayers  to-day, 
My  mother  kissed  me,  and  said,  quite  gay, 

27 


28  THE   POSY   RING 

"  If  the  wonderful  World  is  great  to  you, 

And  great  to  father  and  mother,  too, 

You  are  more  than  the  Earth,  though  you  are 

such  a  dot ! 
You  can  love  and  think,  and  the  Earth  cannot!' 

William  Brighty  Rands. 


A  Day 

I'll  tell  you  how  the  sun  rose, 
A  ribbon  at  a  time. 
The  steeples  swam  in  amethyst, 
The  news  like  squirrels  ran. 

The  hills  untied  their  bonnets, 
The  bobolinks  begun. 
Then  I  said  softly  to  myself, 
"  That  must  have  been  the  sun  !  " 

But  how  he  set,  I  know  not. 
There  seemed  a  purple  stile 
Which  little  yellow  boys  and  girls 
Were  climbing  all  the  while 

Till  when  they  reached  the  other  side, 
A  dominie  in  gray 
Put  gently  up  the  evening  bars, 
And  led  the  flock  away. 

Emily  Dickinson. 


THE   POSY   RING  29 

Good-Morning 
The  year's  at  the  Spring, 
And  day's  at  the  morn  ; 
Morning's  at  seven ; 
The  hill-side's  dew-pearled ; 
The  lark's  on  the  wing; 
The  snail's  on  the  thorn; 
God's  in  his  heaven — 
All's  right  with  the  world. 

Robert  Browning. 

r 

What  the  Winds  Bring 
Which  is  the  Wind  that  brings  the  cold  ? 

The  North- Wind,  Freddy,  and  all  the  snow; 
And  the  sheep  will  scamper  into  the  fold 

When  the  North  begins  to  blow. 

Which  is  the  Wind  that  brings  the  heat  ? 

The  South- Wind,  Katy  ;  and  corn  will  grow, 
And  peaches  redden  for  you  to  eat, 

When  the  South  begins  to  blow. 

Which  is  the  Wind  that  brings  the  rain  ? 

The  East- Wind,  Arty;  and  farmers  know 
The  cows  come  shivering  up  the  lane, 

When  the  East  begins  to  blow. 


30  THE   POSY   RING 

Which  is  the  Wind  that  brings  the  flowers  ? 

The  West- Wind,  Bessy ;  and  soft  and  low 
The  birdies  sing  in  the  summer  hours, 

When  the  West  begins  to  blow. 

Edmund  Clarence  Stedman. 

r 

Lady  Moon 
Lady  Moon,  Lady  Moon,  where  are  you  roving  ? 

"  Over  the  sea." 
Lady  Moon,  Lady  Moon,  whom  are  you  loving  ? 

"  All  that  love  me." 

Are  you  not  tired  with  rolling,  and  never 

Resting  to  sleep  ? 
Why  look  so  pale  and  so  sad,  as  forever 

Wishing  to  weep  ? 

"  Ask  me  not  this,  little  child,  if  you  love  me  i 

You  are  too  bold  : 
I  must  obey  my  dear  Father  above  me, 

And  do  as  I'm  told." 

Lady  Moon,  Lady  Moon,  where  are  you  roving  ? 

"  Over  the  sea." 
Lady  Moon,  Lady  Moon,  whom  are  you  loving? 

"  All  that  love  me." 

Lord  Houghton 


THE   POSY   RING  31 

O  Lady  Moon* 
O  'Laay   Moon,    your  horns  point  toward  the. 
east : 
Shine,  be  increased; 
O  Lady  Moon,   your  horns   point  toward  the 
west : 
Wane,  be  at  rest 

Christina  G.  Rossetti. 


Windy  Nights f 
Whenever  the  moon  and  stars  are  set, 

Whenever  the  wind  is  high, 
All  night  long  in  the  dark  and  wet, 

A  man  goes  riding  by, 
Late  at  night  when  the  fires  are  out, 
Why  does  he  gallop  and  gallop  about? 

Whenever  the  trees  are  crying  aloud, 
And  ships  are  tossed  at  sea, 

By,  on  the  highway,  low  and  loud, 
By  at  the  gallop  goes  he. 

By  at  the  gallop  he  goes,  and  then 

By  he  comes  back  at  the  gallop  again. 

Robert  Louis  Stevenson,, 

r 

*  From  "  Sing-Song,''''  by  Christina  G.  Rossetti.  By  permission  of 
the  Macmillan  Company. 

f  From  " A  Child's  Garden  of  Verses"  by  Robert  Louis  Stevenson. 
By  permission  of  Charles  Scribner's  S^ns. 


82  THE   POSY   RING 

Wild  Winds 

Oh,  oh,  how  the  wild  winds  blow ! 

Blow  high, 

Blow  low, 

And  whirlwinds  go, 

To  chase  the  little  leaves  that  fly — 

Fly  low  and  high, 
To  hollow  and  to  steep  hill-side; 
They  shiver  in  the  dreary  weather, 
And  creep  in  little  heaps  together, 
And  nestle  close  and  try  to  hide. 

Oh,  oh,  how  the  wild  winds  blow ! 
Blow  low, 
Blow  high, 

And  whirlwinds  try 
To  find  a  crevice — to  find  a  crack, 
They  whirl  to  the  front ;  they  whirl  to  the  back, 
But  Tommy  and  Will  and  the  baby  together 
Are  snug  and  safe  from  the  wintry  weather. 

All  the  winds  that  blow 

Cannot  touch  a  toe — 

Cannot  twist  or  twirl 

One  silken  curl. 
They  may  rattle  the  doors  in  a  noisy  pack, 
But  the  blazing  fires  will  drive  them  back. 

Mary  F.  Butts. 


THE   POSY   RING  33 

Now  the  Noisy  Winds  Are  Still* 
Now  the  noisy  winds  are  still ; 
April's  coming  up  the  hill ! 
All  the  spring  is  in  her  train, 
Led  by  shining  ranks  of  rain ; 

Pit,  pat,  patter,  clatter, 

Sudden  sun,  and  clatter,  patter!— 
First  the  blue,  and  then  the  shower ; 
Bursting  bud,  and  smiling  flower ; 
Brooks  set  free  with  tinkling  ring ; 
Birds  too  full  of  song  to  sing ; 
Crisp  old  leaves  astir  with  pride, 
Where  the  timid  violets  hide, — 
All  things  ready  with  a  will, — 
April's  coming  up  the  hill ! 

Mary  Mapes  Dodge. 


The  Wind 
The  wind  has  a  language,  I  would  I  could  learn ; 
Sometimes  'tis  soothing,  and  sometimes  'tis  stern ; 
Sometimes  it  comes  like  a  low,  sweet  song, 
And  all  things  grow  calm,  as  the  sound  floats 

along ; 
And  the  forest  is  lulled  by  the  dreamy  strain ; 
And    slumber    sinks    down   on   the   wandering 

main; 

*  ?Sm  "  Along  the  Way,''''  by  Mary  Mayes  Dodge.     By  permission 
■0  Charles  Scr;br°,r'ii  Sons. 


34  THE   POSY   RING 

And  its  crystal  arms  are  folded  in  rest, 
And  the  tall  ship  sleeps  on  its  heaving  breast. 
Letitia  Elizabeth  Landon, 

t 

The  Fountain 
Into  the  sunshine, 

Full  of  the  light, 
Leaping  and  flashing 

From  morn  till  night  1 

Into  the  moonlight, 

Whiter  than  snow, 
Waving  so  flower-like 

When  the  winds  blow! 

Into  the  starlight, 

Rushing  in  spray, 
Happy  at  midnight, 

Happy  by  day; 

Ever  in  motion, 

Blithesome  and  cheery, 

Still  climbing  heavenward* 
Never  aweary; 

Glad  of  all  weathers ; 

Still  seeming  best, 
Upward  or  downward; 

Motion  thy  rest; 


THE   POSY   RING  35 

Full  of  a  nature 

Nothing  can  tame, 
Changed  every  moment, 

Ever  the  same ; 

Ceaseless  aspiring, 

Ceaseless  content, 
Darkness  or  sunshine 

Thy  element; 

Glorious  fountain ! 

Let  my  heart  be 
Fresh,  changeful,  constant, 

Upward  like  thee ! 

James  Russell  LowelL 

r 

The  Waterfall 

Tinkle,  tinkle  / 

Listen  well ! 

Like  a  fairy  silver  bell 

In  the  distance  ringing, 

Lightly  swinging 

In  the  air; 

'Tis  the  water  in  the  dell 

Where  the  elfin  minstrels  dwell, 

Falling  in  a  rainbow  sprinkle, 

Dropping  stars  that  brightly  twinkle, 

Bright  and  fair, 


36  THE   POSY  RING 

On  the  darkling  pool  below, 

Making  music  so; 

'Tis  the  water  elves  who  play 

On  their  lutes  of  spray. 

Tinkle,  tinkle  ! 

Like  a  fairy  silver  bell; 

Like  a  pebble  in  a  shell; 

Tinkle,  tinkle  ! 

Listen  well ! 

Frank  Dempster  Sherman 


The  Voice  of  the  Grass 

Here  I  come  creeping,  creeping  everywhere ; 

By  the  dusty  roadside, 

On  the  sunny  hill-side, 

Close  by  the  noisy  brook, 

In  every  shady  nook, 
I  come  creeping,  creeping  everywhere. 

Here  I  come  creeping,  smiling  everywhere ; 

All  around  the  open  door, 

Where  sit  the  aged  poor; 

Here  where  the  children  play, 

In  the  bright  and  merry  May, 
I  come  creeping,  creeping  everywhere. 


THE   POSY  RING  37 

Here  I  come  creeping,  creeping  everywhere  ; 

In  the  noisy  city  street 

My  pleasant  face  you'll  meet, 

Cheering  the  sick  at  heart 

Toiling  his  busy  part, — 
Silently  creeping,  creeping  everywhere. 

Here  I  come  creeping,  creeping  everywhere ; 

You  cannot  see  me  coming, 

Nor  hear  my  low  sweet  humming; 

For  in  the  starry  night, 

And  the  glad  morning  light, 
I  come  quietly  creeping  everywhere. 

Here  I  come  creeping,  creeping  everywhere  ; 

More  welcome  than  the  flowers 

In  summer's  pleasant  hours  ; 

The  gentle  cow  is  glad, 

And  the  merry  bird  not  sad, 
To  see  me  creeping,  creeping  everywhere. 

•  •  •  •  •  •  • 

Here  I  come  creeping,  creeping  everywhere  ; 

My  humble  song  of  praise 

Most  joyfully  I  raise 

To  him  at  whose  command 

I  beautify  the  land, 
Creeping,  silently  creeping  everywhere. 

Sarah  Roberts  Boyle. 


38  THE   POSY   RING 

The  Wind  in  a  Frolic 
The  wind  one  morning  sprang  up  from  sleep, 
Saying,  "  Now  for  a  frolic  I     Now  for  a  leap  ! 
Now  for  a  madcap,  galloping  chase ! 
I'll  make  a  commotion  in  every  place  ! w 
So  it  swept  with  a  bustle  right  through  a  great 

town, 
Creaking  the  signs,  and  scattering  down 
Shutters,  and  whisking,  with  merciless  squalls, 
Old  women's  bonnets  and  gingerbread  stalls. 
There  never  was  heard  a  much  lustier  shout, 
As  the  apples  and  oranges  tumbled  about; 
And  the  urchins  that  stand  with  their  thievish 

eyes 
Forever  on  watch,  ran  off  with  each  prize. 

Then  away  to  the  field  it  went  blustering  and 
humming, 

And  the  cattle  all  wondered  whatever  was  com- 
ing. 

It  plucked  by  their  tails  the  grave  matronly  cows, 

And  tossed  the  colts'  manes  all  about  their 
brows, 

Till  offended  at  such  a  familiar  salute, 

They  all  turned  their  backs  and  stood  silently 
mute. 

So  on  it  went  capering  and  playing  its  pranks; 

Whistling  with  reeds  on  the  broad  river-banks; 


THE   POSY  RING  39 

Puffing  the  birds  as  they  sat  on  the  spray, 
Or  the  traveller  grave  on  the  king's  highway. 
It  was  not  too  nice  to  bustle  the  bags 
Of  the  beggar  and  flutter  his  dirty  rags. 
'Twas  so  bold  that  it  feared  not  to  play  its  joke 
With  the  doctor's  wig  and  the  gentleman's  cloak. 
Through  the  forest  it  roared,  and  cried  gayly, 

"  Now, 
You  sturdy  old  oaks,  I'll  make  you  bow !  " 
And  it  made  them  bow  without  more  ado, 
Or  it  cracked  their  branches  through  and  through. 

Then  it  rushed  like  a  monster  o'er  cottage  and 

farm, 
Striking  their  inmates  with  sudden  alarm  ; 
And  they  ran  out  like  bees  in  a  midsummer 

swarm. 
There  were  dames  with  their  kerchiefs  tied  over 

their  caps, 
To  see  if  their  poultry  were  free  from  mishaps ; 
The  turkeys  they  gobbled,  the  geese  screamed 

aloud, 
And  the  hens  crept  to  roost  in  a  terrified  crowd ; 
There  was  rearing  of  ladders,  and  logs  laying  on, 
Where  the  thatch  from  the  roof  threatened  soon 

to  be  gone. 
But  the  wind  had  passed  on,  and  had  met  in  a 

lane 


40  THE   POSY  RING 

With  a  schoolboy,  who  panted  and  struggled  in 

vain, 
For  it  tossed  him,  and  twirled  him,  then  passed 

and  he  stood 
With  his  hat  in  a  pool  and  his  shoe  in  the  mud* 

William  Howitt. 

r 

Clouds 
The  sky  is  full  of  clouds  to-day, 

And  idly  to  and  fro, 
Like  sheep  across  the  pasture,  they 

Across  the  heavens  go. 
I  hear  the  wind  with  merry  noise-— 

Around  the  housetops  sweep, 
And  dream  it  is  the  shepherd  boys, 

They're  driving  home  their  sheep. 

The  clouds  move  faster  now ;  and  see  I 

The  west  is  red  and  gold. 
Each  sheep  seems  hastening  to  be 

The  first  within  the  fold. 
I  watch  them  hurry  on  until 

The  blue  is  clear  and  deep, 
And  dream  that  far  beyond  the  hill 

The  shepherds  fold  their  sheep. 

Then  in  the  sky  the  trembling  stars 
Like  little  flowers  shine  out. 


THE  POSY  RING  41 

While  Night  puts  up  the  shadow  bars, 

And  darkness  falls  about. 
I  hear  the  shepherd  wind's  good- night— 

"  Good-night  and  happy  sleep  ! " — 
And  dream  that  in  the  east,  all  white, 

Slumber  the  clouds,  the  sheep. 

Frank  Dempster  Sherman* 

r 

Signs  of  Rain 
The  hollow  winds  begin  to  blow, 
The  clouds  look  black,  the  glass  is  low, 
The  soot  falls  down,  the  spaniels  sleep, 
The  spiders  from  their  cobwebs  peep : 
Last  night  the  sun  went  pale  to  bed, 
The  moon  in  halos  hid  her  head; 
The  boding  shepherd  heaves  a  sigh, 
For,  see,  a  rainbow  spans  the  sky : 
The  walls  are  damp,  the  ditches  smell, 
Closed  is  the  pink-eyed  pimpernel. 
Hark  how  the  chairs  and  tables  crack ! 
Old  Betty's  joints  are  on  the  rack; 
Loud  quack  the  ducks,  the  peacocks  crys 
The  distant  hills  are  seeming  nigh. 
How  restless  are  the  snorting  swine  ; 
The  busy  flies  disturb  the  kine ; 
Low  o'er  the  grass  the  swallow  wings, 
The  cricket  too,  how  sharp  he  sings ; 


42  THE   POSY   RING 

Puss  on  the  hearth,  with  velvet  paws, 
Sits  wiping  o'er  her  whiskered  jaws. 
Through  the  clear  stream  the  fishes  rise. 
And  nimbly  catch  the  incautious  flies. 
The  glow-worms,  numerous  and  bright, 
Illumed  the  dewy  dell  last  night. 
At  dusk  the  squalid  toad  was  seen, 
Hopping  and  crawling  o'er  the  green ; 
The  whirling  wind  the  dust  obeys, 
And  in  the  rapid  eddy  plays  ; 
The  frog  has  changed  his  yellow  vest, 
And  in  a  russet  coat  is  dressed. 
Though  June,  the  air  is  cold  and  still, 
The  mellow  blackbird's  voice  is  shrill. 
My  dog,  so  altered  in  his  taste, 
Quits  mutton-bones  on  grass  to  feast ; 
And  see  yon  rooks,  how  odd  their  flight* 
They  imitate  the  gliding  kite, 
And  seem  precipitate  to  fall, 
As  if  they  felt  the  piercing  ball. 
Twill  surely  rain,  I  see  with  sorrow, 
Our  jaunt  must  be  put  off  to-morrow. 

Edward  Jenner* 

r 


THE  POSY  RING  43 

A  Sudden  Shower 

Barefooted  boys  scud  up  the  street, 
Or  scurry  under  sheltering  sheds  ; 

And  school-girl  faces,  pale  and  sweet, 

Gleam  from  the  shawls  about  their  heads. 

Doors  bang ;  and  mother- voices  call 
From  alien  homes  ;  and  rusty  gates 

Are  slammed  ;  and  high  above  it  all 
The  thunder  grim  reverberates. 

And  then  abrupt, — the  rain,  the  rain  ! 

The  earth  lies  gasping;  and  the  eyes 
Behind  the  streaming  window-panes 

Smile  at  the  trouble  of  the  skies. 

The  highway  smokes,  sharp  echoes  ring ; 

The  cattle  bawl  and  cow-bells  clank  ; 
And  into  town  comes  galloping 

The  farmer's  horse,  with  steaming  flank. 

The  swallow  dips  beneath  the  eaves, 

And  flirts  his  plumes  and  folds  his  wings; 

And  under  the  catawba  leaves 
The  caterpillar  curls  and  clings. 

The  bumble-bee  is  pelted  down 
The  wet  stem  of  the  hollyhock ; 


44  THE   POSY   RING 

And  sullenly  in  spattered  brown 
The  cricket  leaps  the  garden  walk. 

Within,  the  baby  claps  his  hands 

And  crows  with  rapture  strange  and  vague; 
Without,  beneath  the  rosebush  stands 

A  dripping  rooster  on  one  leg. 

James  Whitcomb  Riley. 


Strange  Lands 

Where  do  you  come  from,  Mr.  Jay  ? 
fi  From  the  land  of  Play,  from  the  land  of  Play, 
And  where  can  that  be,  Mr.  Jay  ? 
"  Far  away — far  away." 

Where  do  you  come  from,  Mrs.  Dove  ? 
!<  From  the  land  of  Love,  from  the  land  of  Love- 
And  how  do  you  get  there,  Mrs.  Dove  ? 
"  Look  above — look  above." 

Where  do  you  come  from,  Baby  Miss  ? 
;s  From  the  land  of  Bliss,  from  the  land  of  Blisa 
And  what  is  the  way  there,  Baby  Miss  ? 
"  Mother's  kiss — mother's  kiss." 

Laurence  Alma  T^dema. 


THk  POSY   RING  45 

Guessing  Song 

Oh  ho  !  oh  ho !     Pray,  who  can  I  be  ? 

I  sweep  o'er  the  land,  I  scour  o'er  the  sea; 

1  cuff  the  tall  trees  till  they  bow  down  theil 

heads, 
And  I  rock  the  wee  birdies  asleep  in  their  beds. 
Oh  ho  !  oh  ho  !     And  who  can  I  be, 
That  sweep  o'er  the  land  and  scour  o'er  the 
sea? 

I  rumple  the  breast  of  the  gray- headed  daw, 
I  tip  the  rook's  tail  up  and  make  him  cry  "caw'*; 
But  though  I  love  fun,  I'm  so  big  and  so  strong. 
At  a  puff  of  my  breath  the  great  ships  sail  along. 
Oh  ho !  oh  ho  1     And  who  can  I  be, 
That  sweep  o'er  the  land  and  sail  o'er  the  sea? 

I  swing  all  the  weather- cocks  this  way  and  that, 
I  play  hare-and-hounds  with  a  runaway  hat ; 
But  however  I  wander,  I  never  can  stray, 
For  go  where  I  will,  I've  a  free  right  of  way  ! 
Oh  ho  !  oh  ho  !     And  who  can  I  be, 
That  sweep  o'er  the  land  and  scour  o'er  the 
sea? 

I  skim  o'er  the  heather,  I  dance  up  the  street, 
I've  foes  that   I  laugh   at,  and  friends  that  1 
greet; 


46  THE  POSY  RING 

I'm  known  in  the  country,  I'm  named  in  the 
town, 

For  all  the  world  over  extends  my  renown. 
Oh  ho  !  oh  ho !     And  who  can  I  be, 
That  sweep  o'er  the  land  and  scour  o'er  the 

Henry  Johnstone. 

r 

The  Rivulet 
Run,  little  rivulet,  run  t 
Summer  is  fairly  begun. 
Bear  to  the  meadow  the  hymn  of  the  pines, 
And  the  echo   that  rings  where  the  waterfall 
shines ; 
Run,  little  rivulet,  run  ! 

Run,  little  rivulet,  run  ! 

Sing  to  the  fields  of  the  sun 
That  wavers  in  emerald,  shimmers  in  gold, 
Where  you  glide  from  your  rocky  ravine,  crystal" 
cold ; 

Run,  little  rivulet,  run  I 

Run,  little  rivulet,  run  ! 

Sing  of  the  flowers,  every  one, — 
Of  the  delicate  harebell  and  violet  blue ; 
Of  the  red  mountain  rose-bud,  all  dripping  with 
dew; 

Run,  little  rivulet,  run! 


THE   POSY   RING  47 

Run,  little  rivulet,  run  ! 
Carry  the  perfume  you  won 
From  the  lily,  that  woke  when  the  morning  was 

gray, 
To  the  white  waiting  moonbeam  adrift  on  the 
bay; 
Run,  little  rivulet,  run  ! 

Run,  little  rivulet,  run ! 

Stay  not  till  summer  is  done  ! 
Carry  the  city  the  mountain-birds'  glee ; 
Carry  the  joy  of  the  hills  to  the  sea  : 

Run,  little  rivulet,  run  ! 

Lucy  Larcom 

r 

Jack  Frost 

The  Frost  looked  forth  on  a  still,  clear  night, 
And  whispered,  "Now,  I  shall  be  out  of  sight; 
So,  through  the  valley,  and  over  the  height, 

In  silence  I'll  take  my  way. 
I  will  not  go  on  like  that  blustering  train, 
The  wind  and  the  snow,  the  hail  and  the  rain, 
That  make  such  a  bustle  and  noise  in  vain; 

But  111  be  as  busy  as  they ! " 

So  he  flew  to  the  mountain,  and  powdered  its 

crest. 
He  lit  on  the  trees,  and  their  boughs  he  dressed 


48  THE   POSY   RING 

With  diamonds  and  pearls  ;  and  over  the  breast 

Of  the  quivering  lake,  he  spread 
A  coat  of  mail,  that  it  need  not  fear 
The  glittering  point  of  many  a  spear 
Which  he  hung  on  its  margin,  far  and  near, 
Where  a  rock  could  rear  its  head. 

He  went  to  the  window  of  those  who  slept, 
And  over  each  pane  like  a  fairy  crept : 
Wherever  he  breathed,  wherever  he  stepped, 

By  the  light  of  the  morn  were  seen 
Most  beautiful  things ! — there  were  flowers  and 

trees, 
There  were  bevies  of  birds,  and  swarms  of  bees ; 
There  were  cities  and  temples  and  towers:  and 
these 

All  pictured  in  silvery  sheen  ! 

But  he  did  one  thing  that  was  hardly  fair — 
He  peeped  in  the  cupboard :  and  finding  the^w 
That  all  had  forgotten  for  him  to  prepare. 

"  Now,  just  to  set  them  a-thinking, 
I'll  bite  this  basket  of  fruit,"  said  he, 
"This  costly  pitcher  I'll  burst  in  three! 
And  the  glass  of  water  they've  left  for  me, 

Shall  '  tchick '  to  tell  them  I'm  drinking." 

Hannah  F.  Gould. 


THE  POSY   HING  49 

Snow/lakes  * 

Whenever  a  snowflake  leaves  the  sky, 
It  turns  and  turns  to  say  "  Good-by  ! 
Good-by,  dear  clouds,  so  cool  and  gray ! n 
Then  lightly  travels  on  its  way. 

And  when  a  snowflake  finds  a  tree, 

"  Good-day ! "  it  says — "  Good-day  to  thee! 

Thou  art  so  bare  and  lonely,  dear, 

I'll  rest  and  call  my  comrades  here." 

But  when  a  snowflake,  brave  and  meek, 
Lights  on  a  rosy  maiden's  cheek, 
It  starts — "  How  warm  and  soft  the  day ! 
Tis  summer ! " — and  it  melts  away. 

Mary  Mapes  Dodge. 

r 

The  Water!   the  Water! 
The  Water!  the  Water! 

The  joyous  brook  for  me, 
That  tuneth  through  the  quiet  night 

Its  ever-living  glee. 
The  Water  !  the  Water  ! 

That  sleepless,  merry  heart, 
Which  gurgles  on  unstintedly, 

And  loveth  to  impart, 

*  From  "Along  the  Wag,"  by  permission  of  Charles  Scribner's  Sons. 


50  THE   POSY   RING 

To  all  around  it,  some  small  measure 
Of  its  own  most  perfect  pleasure. 

The  Water!  the  Water! 

The  gentle  stream  for  me, 
That  gushes  from  the  old  gray  stone 

Beside  the  alder-tree. 
The  Water  !  the  Water ! 

That  ever -bubbling  spring 
I  loved  and  lookfd  on  while  a  child, 

In  deepest  wondering, — 
And  ask'd  it  whence  it  came  and  wentt 
And  when  its  treasures  would  be  spent 

The  Water!  the  Water! 

The  merry,  wanton  brook 
That  bent  itself  to  pleasure  me, 

Like  mine  old  shepherd  crook. 
The  Water!  the  Water! 

That  sang  so  sweet  at  noon, 
And  sweeter  still  all  night,  to  win 

Smiles  from  the  pale  proud  moon, 
And  from  the  little  fairy  faces 
That  gleam  in  heaven's  remotest  places. 

0d»re*«a 

William  Motherwell 


£11 

HIAWATHA'S   CHICKENS 

r 

Then  the  little  Hiawatha 
'Learned  of  every  bird  its  language, 
Learned  their  names  and  all  their  secrets. 
How  they  built  their  nests  in  Summer, 
Where  they  hid  themselves  in  Winter, 
Talked  with  them  whene'er  he  met  them, 
Called  them  "  Hiawatha's  Chickens." 

Henry  Wadswoi^th  Longfellow, 


HIAWATHA'S    CHICKENS 

ST 

The  Swallows 
Gallant  and  gay  in  their  doublets  gray, 

All  at  a  flash  like  the  darting  of  flame, 
Chattering  Arabic,  African,  Indian — - 

Certain  of  springtime,  the  swallows  came  ! 

Doublets  of  gray  silk  and  surcoats  of  purple, 

And  ruffs  of  russet  round  each  little  throat, 
Wearing  such  garb  they  had  crossed  the  waters. 
Mariners  sailing  with  never  a  boat. 

Edwin  Arnold. 
▼ 

The  Swallow's  Nest 
Day  after  day  her  nest  she  moulded, 

Building  with  magic,  love  and  mud, 
A  gray  cup  made  by  a  thousand  journeys, 
And  the  tiny  beak  was  trowel  and  hod. 

Edwin  Arnold. 


53 


54  THE   TOSY   RING 

The  Birds  in  Spring 

Spring,  the  sweet  Spring,  is  the  year's  pleasant 

king ; 
Then  blooms  each  thing,  then  Maids  dance  in  a 

ring, 
Cold  doth  not  sting,  the  pretty  birds  do  sing — - 
Cuckoo,  jug-jug,  pu-we,  to-witta-woo  1 

The  Palm  and  May  make  country  houses  gay, 
Lambs  frisk  and  play,  the  Shepherds  pipe  all  day, 
And  we  hear  aye  birds  tune  this  merry  lay — 
Cuckoo,  jug-jug,  pu-we,  to-witta-woo  ! 

The  Fields  breathe  sweet,  the  Daisies  kiss  our 

feet, 
Young  lovers  meet,  old  wives  a- sunning  sit, 
In  every  Street  these  Tunes  our  ears  do  greet—- 
Cuckoo,  jug-jug,  pu-we,  to-witta-woo  1 
Spring,  the  sweet  Spring  ! 

Thomas  Nashe. 

r 

Robin  Redbreast 
(A  Child's  Song) 

Good-bye,  good-bye  to  Summer  1 
For  Summer's  nearly  done; 

The  garden  smiling  faintly, 
Cool  breezes  in  the  sun; 


THE   POSY   RING  51 

Our  Thrushes  now  are  silent, 

Our  Swallows  flown  away, — 
But  Robin's  here,  in  coat  of  brown. 

With  ruddy  breast-knot  gay. 
Robin,  Robin  Redbreast, 

O  Robin  dear  ! 
Robin  singing  sweetly 

In  the  falling  of  the  year. 

Bright  yellow,  red,  and  orange, 

The  leaves  come  down  in  hosts; 
The  trees  are  Indian  Princes, 

But  soon  they'll  turn  to  Ghosts; 
The  scanty  pears  and  apples 

Hang  russet  on  the  bough, 
It's  Autumn,  Autumn,  Autumn  lates 

'Twill  soon  be  Winter  now, 
Robin,  Robin  Redbreast, 

O  Robin  dear ! 
And  welaway  !  my  Robin, 

For  pinching  times  are  near. 

The  fireside  for  the  Cricket, 
The  wheatstack  for  the  Mouse, 

When  trembling  night- winds  whistle 
And  moan  all  round  the  house; 

The  frosty  ways  like  iron, 

The  branches  plumed  with  snow,-— 


5Q  THE   POSY   RING 

Alas  !  in  Winter,  dead  and  dark, 
Where  can  poor  Robin  go  ? 

Robin,  Robin  Redbreast, 
O  Robin  dear ! 

And  a  crumb  of  bread  for  Robin, 
His  little  heart  to  cheer. 

William  Allingham. 

r 

Hie  Lark  and  the  Rook 

M  Good-night,  Sir  Rook  !  "  said  a  little  lark. 

"  The  daylight  fades ;  it  will  soon  be  dark  ; 

I've  bathed  my  wings  in  the  sun's  last  ray; 

I've  sung  my  hymn  to  the  parting  day; 

So  now  I  haste  to  my  quiet  nook 

In  yon  dewy  meadow — good- night,  Sir  Rook ! n 

"  Good-night,  poor  Lark,"  said  his  titled  friend 

With  a  haughty  toss  and  a  distant  bend; 

"  I  also  go  to  my  rest  profound, 

But  not  to  sleep  on  the  cold,  damp  ground. 

The  fittest  place  for  a  bird  like  me 

Is  the  topmost  bough  of  yon  tall  pine-tree. 

*  *  I  opened  my  eyes  at  peep  of  day 
And  saw  you  taking  your  upward  way, 
Dreaming  your  fond  romantic  dreams, 
An  ugly  speck  in  the  sun's  bright  beams  ; 


THE  POSY  RING  57 

Soaring  too  high  to  be  seen  or  heard ; 

And  I  said  to  myself:  *  What  a  foolish  bird  1 ' 

"  I  trod  the  park  with  a  princely  air, 
2  filled  my  crop  with  the  richest  fare ; 
I  cawed  all  day  'mid  a  lordly  crew, 
And  I  made  more  noise  in  the  world  than  you ! 
The  sun  shone  forth  on  my  ebon  wing ; 
I   looked   and   wondered — good-night,   poor 
thing!" 

"  Good-night,  once  more,"  said  the  lark's  sweet 

voice. 
"  I  see  no  cause  to  repent  my  choice; 
You  build  your  nest  in  the  lofty  pine, 
But  is  your  slumber  more  sweet  than  mine  ? 
You  make  more  noise  in  the  world  than  I, 
«3ut  whose  is  the  sweeter  minstrelsy?"" 

Unknown. 

r 

The  Snowhi7~d 
In  the  rosy  light  trills  the  gay  swallow, 
The  thrush,  in  the  roses  below ; 
The  meadow-lark  sings  in  the  meadow, 
But  the  snowbird  sings  in  the  snow. 

Ah  me ! 

Chickadee ! 
The  snowbird  sings  in  the  snow ! 


58  THE   POSY  BING 

The  blue  martin  trills  in  the  gable, 
The  wren,  in  the  gourd  below ; 
In  the  elm  flutes  the  golden  robin, 
But  the  snowbird  sings  in  the  snow. 

Ah  me  ! 

Chickadee  1 
The  snowbird  sings  in  the  snow  I 

High  wheels  the  gray  wing  of  the  osprey, 
The  wing  of  the  sparrow  drops  low ; 
In  the  mist  dips  the  wing  of  the  robin, 
And  the  snowbird's  wing  in  the  snow. 

Ah  mel 

Chickadee ! 
The  snowbird  sings  in  the  snow. 

I  love  the  high  heart  of  the  osprey, 
The  meek  heart  of  the  thrush  below, 
The  heart  of  the  lark  in  the  meadow, 
And  the  snowbird's  heart  in  the  snow. 
But  dearest  to  me, 
Chickadee  !  Chickadee  1 
Is  that  true  little  heart  in  the  snow. 

Hezekiah  Butterworthc 


THE   POSY  RING  59 

Who  Stole  the  Birds  Nest? 

"  To-whit !  to-whit !  to-whee  I 
Will  you  listen  to  me  ? 
Who  stole  four  eggs  I  laid, 
And  the  nice  nest  I  made  ?  " 

"  Not  I,"  said  the  cow,  "Moo-oo! 

Such  a  thing  Fd  never  do. 

I  gave  you  a  wisp  of  hay, 

But  didn't  take  your  nest  away. 

Not  I,"  said  the  cow,  "  Moo-oo  I 

Such  a  thing  I'd  never  do." 

"  To-whit !  to  whit !  to-whee ! 
Will  you  listen  to  me  ? 
Who  stole  four  eggs  I  laid, 
And  the  nice  nest  I  made  ?  ** 

"  Bob-o'-link  !     Bob-o'-link ! 
Now  what  do  you  think  ? 
Who  stole  a  nest  away 
From  the  plum-tree,  to-day  ? n 

"Not  I,"  said  the  dog,  "  Bow-wow  I 
I  wouldn't  be  so  mean,  anyhow  1 
I  gave  hairs  the  nest  to  make, 
But  the  nest  I  did  not  take. 
Not  I,"  said  the  dog,  "  Bow-wow! 
I'm  not  so  mean,  anyhow.*" 


60  THE   POSY   RING 

"  To- whit !  to- whit !  to- wheel 
Will  you  listen  to  me  ? 
Who  stole  four  eggs  I  laid, 
And  the  nice  nest  I  made  ? " 

"  Bob-o -link  !     Bob-o'-link  I 
Now  what  do  you  think  ? 
Who  stole  a  nest  away 
From  the  plum-tree,  to-day  ?  " 

"Coo-coo!     Coo-coo!     Coo-coo! 
Let  me  speak  a  word,  too  ! 
Who  stole  that  pretty  nest 
From  little  yellow-breast  ?  " 

"  Not  I,"  said  the  sheep;  "  Oh,  no! 

I  wouldn't  treat  a  poor  bird  so. 

I  gave  wool  the  nest  to  line, 

But  the  nest  was  none  of  mine. 

Baa !     Baa  ! "  said  the  sheep,  "  Oh,  no3 

I  wouldn't  treat  a  poor  bird  so." 

"  To- whit !  to-whit !  to-whee ! 
Will  you  listen  to  me  ? 
Who  stole  four  eggs  I  laid, 
And  the  nice  nest  I  made  ? n 

"  Bob-o'-link  !     Bob-o'-link ! 
Now  what  do  you  think? 
Who  stole  a  nest  away 
From  the  plum-tree,  to-day  ?  H 


THE  POSY  KING 

M  Coo-coo  !     Coo-cool     Coo -coo! 
Let  me  speak  a  word,  too  ! 
Who  stole  that  pretty  nest 
From  little  yellow- breast  ?  " 

"  Caw !     Caw  ! "  cried  the  crow ; 
"  I  should  like  to  know 
What  thief  took  away 
A  bird's  nest,  to-day  ?  " 

"  Cluck  !     Cluck ! M  said  the  hen ; 

"  Don't  ask  me  again, 
Why  I  haven't  a  chick 
Would  do  such  a  trick. 
We  all  gave  her  a  feather, 
And  she  wove  them  together. 
I'd  scorn  to  intrude 
On  her  and  her  brood. 
Cluck !     Cluck  !  "  said  the  hen, 

44  Don't  ask  me  again." 

"  Chirr- a- whirr  !     Chirr-a- whirr ! 
All  the  birds  make  a  stir  1 
Let  us  find  out  his  name, 
And  all  cry  *  For  shame  1 " " 

"  I  would  not  rob  a  bird,*' 
Said  little  Mary  Green  ; 
"  I  think  I  never  heard 
Of  anything  so  mean." 


62  THE  POSY  RING 

"  It  is  very  cruel,  too," 
Said  little  Alice  Neal ; 
"  I  wonder  if  he  knew 
How  sad  the  bird  would  feel  ?  ** 

A  little  boy  hung  down  his  head, 
And  went  and  hid  behind  the  bed, 
For  he  stole  that  pretty  nest 
From  poor  little  yellow- breast; 
And  he  felt  so  full  of  shame, 
He  didn't  like  to  tell  his  name. 

Lydia  Maria  Child. 

r 

Answer  to  a  Child's  Question 

Do  you  ask  what  the  birds  say  ?     The  sparrow, 

the  dove, 
The  linnet,  and  thrush  say,  "  I  love  and  I  love  I " 
In  the   winter  they're   silent,  the   wind  is   so 

strong ; 
What  it  says  I  don't  know,  but  it  sings  a  loud 

song. 
But  green  leaves  and  blossoms,  and  sunny  warm 

weather, 
And  singing  and  loving,  all  come  back  together; 
Then  the  lark  is   so   brimful  of  gladness  and 

love, 
The  green  fields  below  him,  the  blue  sky  above, 


THE   POSY   RING  G3 

That  he  sings,  and  he  sings,  and  forever  sings  he, 
"  I  love  my  Love,  and  my  Love  loves  me." 

Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge. 


The  Burial  of  the  Linnet 
Found  in  the  garden  dead  in  his  beauty — - 

Oh  that  a  linnet  should  die  in  the  spring  ! 
Bury  him,  comrades,  in  pitiful  duty, 

Muffle  the  dinner-bell,  solemnly  ring. 

Bury  him  kindly,  up  in  the  corner  ; 

Bird,  beast,  and  goldfish  are  sepulchred  there. 
Bid  the  black  kitten  march  as  chief  mourner, 

Waving  her  tail  like  a  plume  in  the  air. 

Bury  him  nobly — next  to  the  donkey; 

Fetch  the  old  banner,  and  wave  it  about; 
Bury  him  deeply — think  of  the  monkey, 

Shallow  his  grave,  and  the  dogs  got  him  out. 

Bury  him  softly — white  wool  around  him, 
Kiss  his  poor  feathers— the  first  kiss  and  last ; 

Tell  his  poor  widow  kind  friends  have  found  him : 
Plant  his  poor  grave  with  whatever  grows  fast» 

Farewell,  sweet  singer  !  dead  in  thy  beauty, 
Silent  through  summer,  though  other  birds  sing, 

Bury  him,  comrades,  in  pitiful  duty, 
Muffle  the  dinner-bell,  mournfully  ring. 

Juliana  Horatia  Ewing. 


U  THE   POSY  RING 

The  Titmouse 
■  „     .     .     .     Piped  a  tiny  voice  hard  by, 
Gay  and  polite,  a  cheerful  cry, 
Chic-cMcadeedee  f  saucy  note 
Out  of  sound  heart  and  merry  throat, 
As  if  it  said,  "  Good-day,  good  sir  1 
Fine  afternoon,  old  passenger ! 
Happy  to  meet  you  in  these  places, 
Where  January  brings  few  faces." 

This  poet,  though  he  live  apart, 

Moved  by  his  hospitable  heart, 

Sped,  when  I  passed  his  sylvan  fort, 

To  do  the  honors  of  his  court, 

As  fits  a  feathered  lord  of  land  ; 

Flew  near,  with  soft  wing  grazed  my  hand  ; 

Hopped  on  the  bough,  then,  darting  low, 

Prints  his  small  impress  on  the  snow, 

Shows  feats  of  his  gymnastic  play, 

Head  downward,  clinging  to  the  spray, 

Here  was  this  atom  in  full  breath, 
Hurling  defiance  at  vast  death. 
*    This  scrap  of  valor,  just  for  play, 

Fronts  the  north  wind  in  waistcoat  gray. 

Ralph  Waldo  Emerson. 


THE   POSY   RING  65 

Birds  in  Summer 
How  pleasant  the  life  of  a  bird  must  be3 
Flitting  about  in  each  leafy  tree  ; 
In  the  leafy  trees  so  broad  and  tall, 
Like  a  green  and  beautiful  palace  hall, 
With  its  airy  chambers,  light  and  boon, 
That  open  to  sun,  and  stars,  and  moon ; 
That  open  unto  the  bright  blue  sky, 
And  the  frolicsome  winds  as  they  wander  by  \ 

They  have  left  their  nests  in  the  forest  bough ; 
Those  homes  of  delight  they  need  not  now ; 
And  the  young  and  old  they  wander  out, 
And  traverse  the  green  world  round  about ; 
And  hark  at  the  top  of  this  leafy  hall, 
How,  one  to  another,  they  lovingly  call! 
"  Come  up,  come  up  !  "  they  seem  to  say, 
"  Where  the  topmost  twigs  in  the  breezes  play !  w 

**  Come  up,  come  up,  for  the  world  is  fair, 
Where  the  merry  leaves  dance  in  the  summer 

air!" 
And  the  birds  below  give  back  the  cry, 
"  We  come,  we  come  to  the  branches  high ! M 
How  pleasant  the  life  of  the  birds  must  be, 
Living  above  in  a  leafy  tree  ! 
And  away  through  the  air  what  joy  to  go, 
And  to  look  on  the  green,  bright  earth  below ! 


66  THE   POSY   RING 

How  pleasant  the  life  of  a  bird  must  be, 

Skimming  about  on  the  breezy  sea, 

Cresting  the  billows  like  silvery  foam, 

Then  wheeling  away  to  its  cliff-built  home ! 

What  joy  it  must  be  to  sail,  upborne, 

By  a  strong  free  wing,  through  the  rosy  morn, 

To  meet  the  young  sun,  face  to  face, 

And  pierce,  like  a  shaft,  the  boundless  space! 

To  pass  through  the  bowers  of  the  silver  cloud ; 
To  sing  in  the  thunder  halls  aloud  ; 
To  spread  out  the  wings  for  a  wild,  free  flight 
With  the  upper  cloud- winds, — oh,  what  delight 
Oh,  what  would  I  give,  like  a  bird,  to  go, 
Right  on  through  the  arch  of  the  sun-lit  bow, 
And  see  how  the  water-drops  are  kissed 
Into  green  and  yellow  and  amethyst. 

How  pleasant  the  life  of  a  bird  must  be, 
Wherever  it  listeth,  there  to  flee; 
To  go,  when  a  joyful  fancy  calls, 
Dashing  down  'mong  the  waterfalls ; 
Then  wheeling  about,  with  its  mate  at  play. 
Above  and  below,  and  among  the  spray, 
Hither  and  thither,  with  screams  as  wild 
As  the  laughing  mirth  of  a  rosy  child  I 

What  joy  it  must  be,  like  a  living  breeze. 
To  flutter  about  'mid  the  flowering  trees; 


THE   POSY   RING  67 

Lightly  to  soar  and  to  see  beneath, 

The  wastes  of  the  blossoming  purple  heath, 

And  the  yellow  furze,  like  fields  of  gold, 

That  gladden  some  fairy  region  old ! 

On  mountain-tops,  on  the  billowy  sea, 

On  the  leafy  stems  of  the  forest-tree, 

How  pleasant  the  life  of  a  bird  must  be ! 

Mary  Howitt. 

f 
An  Ejritapk  on  a  Robin  Redbreast 

Tread  lightly  here  ;  for  here,  'tis  said, 
When  piping  winds  are  hush'd  around, 
A  small  note  wakes  from  underground, 

Where  now  his  tiny  bones  are  laid. 

No  more  in  lone  or  leafless  groves, 
With  ruffled  wing  and  faded  breast, 

His  friendless,  homeless  spirit  roves  ; 

Gone  to  the  world  where  birds  are  blest ! 

Where  never  cat  glides  o'er  the  green, 
Or  school-boy's  giant  form  is  seen; 
But  love,  and  joy,  and  smiling  Spring 
Inspire  their  little  souls  to  sing  ! 

Samuel  Rogers. 

r 


68  THE   POSY  RING 

The    Bluebird 

I  know  the  song  that  the  bluebird  is  singing, 
Out  in  the  apple-tree  where  he  is  swinging. 
Brave  little  fellow !  the  skies  may  be  dreary, 
Nothing  cares  he  while  his  heart  is  so  cheery. 

Hark !  how  the  music  leaps  out  from  his  throat  1 
Hark  S  was  there  ever  so  merry  a  note  ? 
Listen  awhile,  and  you'll  hear  what  he's  saying. 
Up  in  the  apple-tree,  swinging  and  swaying: 

"  Dear  little  blossoms,  down  under  the  snow, 
You  must  be  weary  of  winter,  I  know ; 
Hark  !  while  I  sing  you  a  message  of  cheer, 
Summer  is  coming  and  spring-time  is  herel 

"Little  white  snowdrop,  I  pray  you  arise; 
Bright  yellow  crocus,  come,  open  your  eyes ; 
Sweet  little  violets  hid  from  the  cold, 
Put  on  your  mantles  of  purple  and  gold  ; 
Daffodils,  daffodils  !  say,  do  you  hear  ? 
Summer  is  coming,  and  spring-time  is  here ! " 
Mrs.  Emily  Huntington  Miller* 


THE   POSY   RING  69 

Song 

I  had  a  dove  and  the  sweet  dove  died; 

And  I  have  thought  it  died  of  grieving : 
O,  what  could  it  grieve  for  ?     Its  feet  were  tied 

With   a   silken   thread  of  my  own  hand's 
weaving ; 
Sweet  little  red  feet !  why  should  you  die — 

Why  should  you  leave  me,  sweet  bird  !  why? 

You  lived  alone  in  the  forest-tree, 
Why,   pretty   thing !  would   you  not  live  with 
me? 

I  kiss'd  you  oft  and  gave  you  white  peas; 

Why  not  live  sweetly,  as  in  the  green  trees  ? 

John  Keats. 


What  -Does  Little  Birdie  Say? 

What  does  little  birdie  say, 
In  her  nest  at  peep  of  day  ? 
"  Let  me  fly,"  says  little  birdie? 

54  Mother,  let  me  fly  away." 

Birdie,  rest  a  little  longer, 
Till  the  little  wings  are  stronger. 
So  she  rests  a  little  longer, 
Then  she  flies  away. 


70  THE   POSY   RING 

What  does  little  baby  say, 
In  her  bed  at  peep  of  day  ? 

Baby  says,  like  little  birdie, 
**  Let  me  rise  and  fly  away." 

Baby,  sleep  a  little  longer, 
Till  the  little  limbs  are  stronger. 
If  she  sleeps  a  little  longer, 
Baby,  too,  shall  fly  a^way. 

Alfred,  Lord  Tennyson 

r 

The  Old 
When  cats  run  home  and  light  is  come, 

And  dew  is  cold  upon  the  ground, 
And  the  far-off  stream  is  dumb, 
And  the  whirring  sail  goes  round; 
And  the  whirring  sail  goes  round ; 
Alone  and  warming  his  five  wits. 
The  white  owl  in  the  belfry  sits. 

When  merry  milkmaids  click  the  latch, 

And  rarely  smells  the  new-mown  hay. 
And  the  cock  hath  sung  beneath  the  thatch 
Twice  or  thrice  his  roundelay, 
Twice  or  thrice  his  roundelay ; 
Alone  and  warming  his  five  wits, 
The  white  owl  in  the  belfry  sits. 

Alfred,  Lord  Tennyson. 


THE  POSY  RING  71 

Wild  Geese 

The  wild  wind  blows,  the  sun  shines,  the  birds 

sing  loud, 
The  blue,  blue  sky  is  flecked  with  fleecy  dappled 

cloud, 
Over  earth's  rejoicing  fields  the  children  dance 

and  sing, 
And  the  frogs  pipe  in  chorus,  "  It  is  spring  !     It 

is  spring!  " 

The  grass  comes,  the  flower  laughs  where  lately 

lay  the  snow, 
O'er  the  breezy  hill-top  hoarsely  calls  the  crow, 
By  the  flowing  river  the  alder  catkins  swing, 
And  the  sweet  song-sparrow  cries,  "  Spring !     It 

is  spring ! " 

Hark,  what  a  clamor  goes  winging  through  the 

sky! 
Look,  children !     Listen   to  the  sound  so  wild 

and  high! 
Like  a  peal  of  broken  bells, — kling,  klang,kling, — 
Far  and  high  the  wild  geese  cry,  "  Spring !     It 

is  spring ! " 

Bear  the  winter  off  with  you,  O  wild  geese  dear! 
Carry  all  the  cold  away,  far  away  from  here ; 


72  THE  POSY  RING 

Chase  the  snow  into  the  north,  O  strong  of  heart 

and  wing, 
While  we   share    the    robin's    rapture,   crying, 

"  Spring !     It  is  spring !  " 

Celia  Thaxter. 


Clianticleer 

I  wake  !     I  feel  the  day  is  near ; 

I  hear  the  red  cock  crowing ! 
He  cries  "  "Tis  dawn !  "     How  sweet  and  clear 
His  cheerful  call  comes  to  my  ear, 

While  light  is  slowly  growing. 

The  white  snow  gathers  flake  on  flake; 

I  hear  the  red  cock  crowing ! 
Is  anybody  else  awake 
To  see  the  winter  morning  break, 

While  thick  and  fast  'tis  snowing? 

I  think  the  world  is  all  asleep ; 

I  hear  the  red  cock  crowing ! 
Out  of  the  frosty  pane  I  peep  ; 
The  drifts  are  piled  so  wide  and  deep, 

And  wild  the  wind  is  blowing  1 

Nothing  I  see  has  shape  or  form ; 
I  hear  the  red  cock  crowing! 


THE   POSY   RING  73 

But  that  dear  voice  comes  through  the  storm 
To  greet  me  in  my  nest  so  warm, 
As  if  the  sky  were  glowing ! 

A  happy  little  child,  I  lie 

And  hear  the  red  cock  crowing. 
The  day  is  dark.     I  wonder  why  k 

His  voice  rings  out  so  brave  and  high, 

With  gladness  overflowing. 

Celia  Thaxter. 


The  Singer 

O  Lark  !  sweet  lark  ! 

Where  learn  you  all  your  minstrelsy  ? 
What  realms  are  those  to  which  you  fly  ? 
While  robins  feed  their  young  from  dawn  till 
dark, 

You  soar  on  high — - 

Forever  in  the  sky. 

O  child !  dear  child  ! 

Above  the  clouds  I  lift  my  wing 

To  hear  the  bells  of  Heaven  ring; 
Some  of  their  music,  though  my  flights  be  wild, 

To  Earth  I  bring; 

Then  let  me  soar  and  sing ! 

Edmund  Clarence  Stedman. 


74  THE  POSY  RING 

The  Blue  Jay 

O  Blue  Jay  up  in  the  ma  pie- tree, 

Shaking  your  throat  with  such  bursts  of  glee; 

How  did  you  happen  to  be  so  blue  ? 
Did  you  steal  a  bit  of  the  lake  for  your  crests 
And  fasten  blue  violets  into  your  vest? 

Tel]  me,  T  pray  you, —tell  me  true  1 

Did  you  dip  your  wings  in  azure  dye. 
When  April  began  to  paint  the  sky, 

That  was  pale  with  the  winter  s  stay  ? 
Or  were  you  hatched  from  a  bluebell  bright, 
'Neath  the  warm,  gold  breast  of  a  sunbeam  light 

By  the  river  one  blue  spring  day  ? 

0  Blue  Jay  up  in  the  maple-tree, 
A-tossing  your  saucy  head  at  me, 

With  ne  er  a  word  for  my  questioning, 
Pray,  cease  for  a  moment  your  "  ting-a-link,* 
And  hear  when  I  tell  you  what  1  think,— 

You  bonniest  bit  of  the  spring. 

1  think  when  the  fairies  made  the  flowers, 
To  grow  in  these  mossy  fields  of  ours, 

Periwinkles  and  violets  rare, 
There  was  left  of  the  spring's  own  color,  blue? 
Plenty  to  fashion  a  flower  whose  hue 

Would  be  richer  than  all  and  as  fair* 


THE  POSY  RING  75 

So,  putting  their  wits  together,  they 
Made  one  great  blossom  so  bright  and  gay, 

The  lily  beside  it  seemed  blurred; 
And  then  they  said,  *•  We  will  toss  it  in  air ; 
So  many  blue  blossoms  grow  everywhere, 

Let  this  pretty  one  be  a  bird  I n 

Susan  Hartley  Swetfc 

r 

Robert  of  Lincoln  * 
Merrily  swinging  on  brier  and  weed, 
Near  to  the  nest  of  his  little  dame, 
Over  the  mountain-side  or  mead, 

Robert  of  Lincoln  is  telling  his  name  i 
Bob-o'-link,  bob-o'-link, 
Spink,  spank,  spink, 
Snug  and  safe  is  this  nest  of  ours, 
Hidden  among  the  summer  flowers* 
Chee,  chee,  chee. 

Robert  of  Lincoln  is  gayly  drest, 

Wearing  a  bright,  black  wedding-coat; 
White  are  his  shoulders  and  white  his  crest* 
Hear  him  call,  in  his  merry  note, 
Bob-o'-link,  bob-o'-link, 
Spink,  spank,  spink, 

*  Courtesy  of  D.  Appleton  Q  Co.,  Publishers  of  Bryant's  Complete 
Poetical  Worlss. 


76  THE  POSY   RING 

Look  what  a  nice  new  coat  is  mine, 
Sure  there  was  never  a  bird  so  fine ! 
Chee,  chee,  chee. 

Robert  of  Lincoln's  Quaker  wife, 

Pretty  and  quiet,  with  plain  brown  wings, 
Passing  at  home  a  patient  life, 

Broods  in  the  grass  while  her  husband  sings 
Bob-o'-link,  bob-o'-link, 
Spink,  spank,  spink, 
Brood,  kind  creature ;  you  need  not  fear 
Thieves  and  robbers  while  I  am  here, 
Chee,  chee,  chee. 

Modest  and  shy  as  a  nun  is  she ; 

One  weak  chirp  is  her  only  note. 
Braggart,  and  prince  of  braggarts  is  he, 
Pouring  boasts  from  his  little  throat : 
Bob-o'-link,  bob-o'-link, 
Spink,  spank,  spink, 
Never  was  I  afraid  of  man ; 
Catch  me,  cowardly  knaves,  if  you  can, 
Chee,  chee,  chee. 

Six  white  eggs  on  a  bed  of  hay, 

Flecked  with  purple,  a  pretty  sight : 
There  as  the  mother  sits  all  day, 
Robert  is  singing  with  all  his  might, 
Bob-o'-link,  bob-o'-link, 
Spink,  spank,  spink, 


THE  POSY  RING  77 

Nice  good  wife,  that  never  goes  out, 
Keeping  house  while  I  frolic  about. 
Chee,  chee.  chee. 

Soon  as  the  little  ones  chip  the  shell, 

Six  wide  mouths  are  open  for  food ; 
Robert  of  Lincoln  bestirs  him  well, 
Gathering  seeds  for  the  hungry  brood. 
Bob-o'-link,  bob-o'-link, 
Spink,  spank,  spink, 
This  new  life  is  likely  to  be 
Hard  for  a  gay  young  fellow  like  me, 
Chee,  chee,  chee. 

Robert  of  Lincoln  at  length  is  made 

Sober  with  work,  and  silent  with  care; 
Off  is  his  holiday  garment  laid, 
Half  forgotten  that  merry  air; 
Bob-o'-link,  bob-o'-link, 
Spink,  spank,  spink, 
Nobody  knows  but  my  mate  and  I 
Where  our  nest  and  our  nestlings  lie, 
Chee,  chee,  chee.     . 

Summer  wanes;  the  children  are  grown; 

Fun  and  frolic  no  more  he  knows, 
Robert  of  Lincoln's  a  humdrum  crone ; 
Off  he  flies,  and  we  sing  as  he  goes  I 
Bob-o'-link,  bob-o'-link, 
Spink,  spank,  spink, 


78  THE  POSY  RING 

When  you  can  pipe  that  merry  old  strain, 
Robert  of  Lincoln,  come  back  again, 
Chee,  chee,  chee. 

William  Cullen  Bryant 

r 

IVJiite  Butterflies 

Fly,  white  butterflies,  out  to  sea, 
Frail,  pale  wings  for  the  wind  to  try, 
Small  white  wings  that  we  scarce  can  sees 
Fly! 

Some  fly  light  as  a  laugh  of  glee, 
Some  fly  soft  as  a  long,  low  sigh; 
All  to  the  haven  where  each  would  be, 
Flyl 

Algernon  Charles  Swinburne. 

r 

The  Ant  and  the  Cricket 

A  silly  young  cricket,  accustomed  to  sing 
Through  the  warm,  sunny  months  of  gay  sum« 

mer  and  spring, 
Began  to  complain,  when  he  found  that  at  home 
His  cupboard  was  empty  and  winter  was  come. 
Not  a  crumb  to  be  found 
On  the  snow-covered  ground; 


THE  POSY  RING  79 

Not  a  flower  could  he  see, 
Not  a  leaf  on  a  tree  : 
"  Oh,  what  will  become,"  says  the  cricket,  "  of 
me? 

At  last  by  starvation  and  famine  made  bold, 
All  dripping  with  wet  and  all  trembling  with 

cold, 
Away  he  set  off  to  a  miserly  ant, 
To  see  if,  to  keep  him  alive,  he  would  grant 
Him  shelter  from  rain : 
A  mouthful  of  grain 
He  wished  only  to  borrow, 
He'd  repay  it  to-morrow : 
[f  not,  he  must  die  of  starvation  and  sorrow. 

Says  the  ant  to  the  cricket,  "  I'm  your  servant 

and  friend, 
But  we  ants  never  borrow,  we  ants  never  lend ; 
But  tell  me,  dear  sir,  did  you  lay  nothing  by 
When  the  weather  was  warm  ? "    Said  the  cricket 
"  Not  I. 

My  heart  was  so  light 
That  I  sang  day  and  night, 
For  all  nature  looked  gay." 
"  You  sang9  sir,  you  say  ? 
Go  then,"    said   the  ant,    "  and   dance  wintei 
away." 


80  THE  POSY  RING 

Thus  ending,  he  hastily  lifted  the  wicket 
And  out  of  the  door  turned  the  poor  little  cricket 
Though  this  is  a  fable,  the  moral  is  good  : 
If  you  live  without  work,  you  must  live  without 
food. 

Unknown. 


IV 
THE  FLOWER  FOLK 

r 

Hope  is  like   a  harebell,  trembling  from  its 

birth, 
Love  is  like  a  rose,  the  joy  of  all  the  earth ; 
Faith  is  like  a  lily,  If  ted  high  and  white, 
Love  is  like  a  lovely  rose,  the  wo?~ld's  delight; 
Ha7~ebells  and  sweet  lilies  show   a   thornless 

growth, 
But  the  rose  with  all  its  thorns  excels  theifi 

both 

Christina  G.  Rossetti. 


THE    FLOWER    FOLK 

r    r 

r 

Little  JVldte  Lily 
Little  white  Lily- 
Sat  by  a  stone, 
Drooping  and  waiting 
Till  the  sun  shone. 
Little  white  Lily 
Sunshine  has  fed; 
Little  white  Lily 
Is  lifting  her  head. 

Little  white  Lily 
Said,  "  It  is  good — 
Little  white  Lily's 
Clothing  and  food.* 
Little  white  Lily 
Drest  like  a  bride ! 
Shining  with  whiteness 
And  crowned  beside  I 

Little  white  Lily 

Droopeth  with  pain, 

Waiting  and  waiting 

For  the  wet  rain. 
8a 


84  THE  POSY  RING 

Little  white  Lily 
Holdeth  her  cup; 
Rain  is  fast  falling 
And  filling  it  up. 

Little  white  Lily 
Said,  "  Good  again— 
When  I  am  thirsty 
To  have  fresh  rain! 
Now  I  am  stronger; 
Now  I  am  cool; 
Heat  cannot  burn  me, 
My  veins  are  so  fiilL" 

Little  white  Lily 
Smells  very  sweet: 
On  her  head  sunshine, 
Rain  at  her  feet. 
"  Thanks  to  the  sunshine, 
Thanks  to  the  rain  I 
Little  white  Lily 
Is  happy  again ! " 

George  Macdonald. 

s? 


THE  POSY  RING  8 

Violets 
Violets,  violets,  sweet  March  violets, 
Sure  as  March  comes,  they'll  come  too, 
First  the  white  and  then  the  blue — 
Pretty  violets! 

White,  with  just  a  pinky  dye, 
Blue  as  little  baby's  eye, — 
So  like  violets. 

Though  the  rough  wind  shakes  the  house, 
Knocks  about  the  budding  boughs, 
There  are  violets. 

Though  the  passing  snow-storms  come, 
And  the  frozen  birds  sit  dumb, 
Up  spring  violets. 

One  by  one  among  the  grass, 
Saying  "  Pluck  me  !  "  as  we  pass,— 
Scented  violets. 

By  and  by  there'll  be  so  many, 
We'll  pluck  dozens  nor  miss  any : 
Sweet,  sweet  violets ! 

Children,  when  you  go  to  play, 
Look  beneath  the  hedge  to-day  :— 
Mamma  likes  violets. 

Dinah  Maria  Mulock. 


B6  THE   POSY   RING 

Young  Dandelion 

Young  Dandelion 
On  a  hedge-side. 

Said  young  Dandelion, 
s  Who'll  be  my  bride? 

""  I'm  a  bold  fellow 
As  ever  was  seen, 

With  my  shield  of  yellow, 
in  the  grass  green. 

*'-  You  may  uproot  me 
From  field  and  from  lane 

Trample  me,  cut  me,— 
I  spring  up  again. 

"  I  never  flinch,  Sir, 
Wherever  I  dwell; 

Give  me  an  inch,  Sir, 
I'll  soon  take  an  ell. 

"  Drive  me  from  garden 
In  anger  and  pride, 

I'll  thrive  and  harden 
By  the  road-side. 

"  Not  a  bit  fearful, 
Showing  my  face, 

Always  so  cheerful 
In  every  place." 


THE   POSY   RING  87 

Said  young  Dandelion, 

With  a  sweet  air, 
"  I  have  my  eye  on 

Miss  Daisy  fair. 

e<  Though  we  may  tarry 

Till  past  the  cold, 
Her  I  will  marry 

Ere  I  grow  old. 

"  I  will  protect  her 

From  all  kinds  of  harm, 
Feed  her  with  nectar, 

Shelter  her  warm. 

'*  What  e'er  the  weather, 

Let  it  go  by ; 
We'll  hold  together, 

Daisy  and  I. 

"  I'll  ne'er  give  in, — no  1 

Nothing  I  fear : 
All  that  I  win,  oh  ! 

I'll  keep  for  my  dear." 

Said  young  Dandelion 

On  his  hedge-side, 
?£  Who'll  me  rely  on  ? 

Who'll  be  my  bride?" 

Dinah  Maria  Muloek 


88  THE   POSY  RING 

Baby  Seed  Song 
Little  brown  brother,  oh  !  little  brown  brother, 

Are  you  awake  in  the  dark  ? 
Here  we  lie  cosily,  close  to  each  other : 

Hark  to  the  song  of  the  lark — 
"  Waken ! "  the  lark   says,  "  waken   and  dress 
you; 

Put  on  your  green  coats  and  gay, 
Blue  sky  will  shine  on  you,  sunshine  caress  you — 

Waken!  'tis  morning — 'tis  May  !" 

Little  brown  brother,  oh !  little  brown  brother, 

What  kind  of  flower  will  you  be  ? 
I'll  be  a  poppy — all  white,  like  my  mother ; 

Do  be  a  poppy  like  me. 
What !  you're  a  sun-flower  ?     How  I  shall  miss 
you 

When  you're  grown  golden  and  high! 
But  I  shall  send  all  the  bees  up  to  kiss  you : 

Little  brown  brother,  good-bye. 

E.  Nesbit 

r 

A   Violet  Bank 
I  know  a  bank  whereon  the  wild  thyme  blows, 
Where  oxlips  and  the  nodding  violet  grows : 
Quite  over-canopied  with  lush  woodbine, 
With  sweet  musk  roses  and  with  eglantine. 

William  Shakespeare 


THE  POSY   RING  89 

There's  Nothing  Like  the  Rose 

The  lily  has  an  air, 

And  the  snowdrop  a  grace, 
And  the  sweet-pea  a  way, 

And  the  heart's-ease  a  face, — 
Yet  there's  nothing  like  the  rose 
When  she  blows. 

Christina  G.  Rossetti. 


Snowdrops 

Little  ladies,  white  and  green, 
With  your  spears  about  you, 

Will  you  tell  us  where  you've  been 
Since  we  lived  without  you  ? 

You  are  sweet,  and  fresh,  and  clean, 

With  your  pearly  faces ; 
In  the  dark  earth  where  you've  been, 

There  are  wondrous  places  : 

Yet  you  come  again,  serene, 
When  the  leaves  are  hidden ; 

Bringing  joy  from  where  you've  been, 
You  return  unbidden — 

Little  ladies,  white  and  green, 
Are  you  glad  to  cheer  us  ? 


90  THE   POSY  RING 

Hunger  not  for  where  you've  been, 
Stay  till  Spring  be  near  us  ! 

Laurence  Alma  Tadema. 

r 

Fern  Song 
Dance  to  the  beat  of  the  rain,  little  Fern, 
And  spread  out  your  palms  again, 

And  say,  "  Tho'  the  sun 

Hath  my  vesture  spun, 
He  had  laboured,  alas,  in  vain, 

But  for  the  shade 

That  the  Cloud  hath  made, 
And  the  gift  of  the  Dew  and  the  Rain,* 

Then  laugh  and  upturn 

All  your  fronds,  little  Fern, 
And  rejoice  in  the  beat  of  the  rain  ! 

John  B.  Tabb. 

r 

The  Violet 
Down  in  a  green  and  shady  bed 

A  modest  violet  grew; 
Its  stalk  was  bent,  it  hung  its  head, 

As  if  to  hide  from  view. 

And  yet  it  was  a  lovely  flower, 
Its  color  bright  and  fair; 


THE  POSY  RING  91 

It  might  have  graced  a  rosy  bower 
Instead  of  hiding  there. 

Yet  there  it  was  content  to  bloom, 

In  modest  tints  arrayed; 
And  there  diffused  its  sweet  perfume 

Within  the  silent  shade. 

Then  let  me  to  the  valley  go, 

This  pretty  flower  to  see, 
That  I  may  also  learn  to  grow 

In  sweet  humility. 

Jane  Taylor. 

r 


Daffy-Down- Ditty 
DafFy-down-dilly 

Came  up  in  the  cold, 

Through  the  brown  mould, 
Although  the  March  breezes 

Blew  keen  on  her  face, 
Although  the  white  snow 

Lay  on  many  a  place, 

DafFy-down-dilly 

Had  heard  under  ground, 
The  sweet  rushing  sound 

Of  the  streams,  as  they  broke 
From  their  white  winter  chains, 


92  THE  POSY   RING 

Of  the  whistling  spring  winds9 
And  the  pattering  rains. 

M  Now  then,"  thought  Daffy, 
Deep  down  in  her  heart, 
"  It's  time  I  should  start." 

So  she  pushed  her  soft  leaves 
Through  the  hard  frozen  ground, 

Quite  up  to  the  surface, 
And  then  she  looked  round. 

There  was  snow  all  about  her, 

Gray  clouds  overhead; 

The  trees  all  looked  dead  t 
Then  how  do  you  think 

Poor  Daffy- down  felt, 
When  the  sun  would  not  shine, 

And  the  ice  would  not  melt? 

**  Cold  weather ! '  thought  Daffy, 

Still  working  away; 

*'  The  earth's  hard  to-day  \ 
There's  but  a  half  inch 

Of  my  leaves  to  be  seen, 
And  two  thirds  of  that 

Is  more  yellow  than  green. 

**  I  can't  do  much  yet; 
But  I'll  do  what  I  can: 
It's  well  I  began! 


THE  POSY  RING  93 

For,  unless  I  can  manage 

To  lift  up  my  head, 
The  people  will  think 

That  the  Spring  herself  s  dead,* 

So.  little  by  little, 

She  brought  her  leaves  out, 

All  clustered  about ; 
And  then  her  bright  flowers 

Began  to  unfold, 
Till  Daffy  stood  robed 

In  her  spring  green  and  gold. 

O  Daffy-down-dilly, 

So  brave  and  so  true ! 

I  wish  all  were  like  you  I — 
So  ready  for  duty 

In  all  sorts  of  weather, 
And  loyal  to  courage 

And  duty  together. 

Ann&B  Warner, 

r 

Baby  Com 

A  happy  mother  stalk  of  corn 

Held  close  a  baby  ear, 
And  whispered  :  "  Cuddle  up  to  m.9 

I'll  keep  you  warm,  my  dear* 


9*  THE   POSY   RING 

I'll  give  you  petticoats  of  green, 

With  many  a  tuck  and  fold 
To  let  out  daily  as  you  grow; 

For  you  will  soon  be  old." 

A  funny  little  baby  that, 

For  though  it  had  no  eye, 
It  had  a  hundred  mouths ;  'twas  well 

It  did  not  want  to  cry. 
The  mother  put  in  each  small  mouth 

A  hollow  thread  of  silk, 
Through  which  the  sun  and  rain  and  aif 

Provided  baby's  milk. 

The  petticoats  were  gathered  close 

Where  all  the  threadlets  hung. 
And  still  as  summer  days  went  on 

To  mother-stalk  it  clung; 
And  all  the  time  it  grew  and  grew — 

Each  kernel  drank  the  milk 
By  day,  by  night,  in  shade,  in  sun, 

From  its  own  thread  of  silk. 

And  each  grew  strong  and  full  and  round 
And  each  was  shining  white ; 

The  gores  and  seams  were  all  let  out, 
The  green  skirts  fitted  tight, 

The  ear  stood  straight  and  large  and  tall 
And  when  it  saw  the  sun, 


THE   POSY   RING  95 

Held  up  its  emerald  satin  gown 
To  say ;  "  Your  work  is  done." 

**  You're  large  enough,"  said  Mother  Stalls 

"  And  now  there's  no  more  room 
For  you  to  grow."     She  tied  the  threads 

Into  a  soft  brown  plume — 
it  floated  out  upon  the  breeze 

To  greet  the  dewy  morn, 
And  then  the  baby  said :  "  Now  I'm 

A  full-grown  ear  of  corn  1 " 

Lydia  Avery  Coonley  Ward. 


A  CMIcts  Fancy 

O  little  flowers,  you  love  me  so, 

You  could  not  do  without  me ; 
O  little  birds  that  come  and  go, 

You  sing  sweet  songs  about  me; 
O  little  moss,  observed  by  few, 

That  round  the  tree  is  creeping, 
You  like  my  head  to  rest  on  you, 

When  I  am  idly  sleeping. 

O  rushes  by  the  river  side, 

You  bow  when  I  come  near  you; 
O  fish,  you  leap  about  with  pride, 

Because  you  think  I  hear  you  • 


96  THE  POSY  RING 

O  river,  you  shine  clear  and  bright, 
To  tempt  me  to  look  in  you; 

O  water-lilies,  pure  and  white, 
You  hope  that  I  shall  win  you. 

O  pretty  things,  you  love  me  so, 

I  see  I  must  not  leave  you ; 
You'd  find  it  very  dull,  1  know, 

I  should  not  like  to  grieve  you. 
Don't  wrinkle  up,  you  silly  moss ; 

My  flowers,  you  need  not  shiver; 
My  little  buds,  don't  look  so  cross ; 

Don't  talk  so  loud,  my  river. 

And  I  will  make  a  promise,  dears, 
That  will  content  you,  maybe; 

I'll  love  you  through  the  happy  years, 
Till  I'm  a  nice  old  lady  1 

True  love  (like  yours  and  mine)  they  say 
Can  never  think  of  ceasing, 

But  year  by  year,  and  day  by  day, 

Keeps  steadily  increasing. 

"A. 


THE  POSY   RING  97 

Little  Dandelion 

Gay  little  Dandelion 

Lights  up  the  meads, 
Swings  on  her  slender  foot, 

Telleth  her  beads, 
Lists  to  the  robin  s  note 

Poured  from  above: 
Wise  little  Dandelion 

Asks  not  for  love. 

Cold  lie  the  daisy  banks 

Clothed  but  in  green, 
Where,  in  the  days  agone, 

Bright  hues  were  seen. 
Wild  pinks  are  slumbering  ; 

Violets  delay : 
True  little  Dandelion 

Greeteth  the  May. 

Brave  little  Dandelion  I 

Fast  falls  the  snow, 
Bending  the  daffodil's 

Haughty  head  low. 
Under  that  fleecy  tent, 

Careless  of  cold, 
Blithe  little  Dandelion 

Counteth  her  gold. 


OS  THE  POSY  RING 

Meek  little  Dandelion 

Groweth  more  fair, 
Till  dies  the  amber  dew 

Out  from  her  hair. 
High  rides  the  thirsty  suss* 

Fiercely  and  high  ; 
Faint  little  Dandelion 

Closeth  her  eye. 

Pale  little  Dandelion, 

In  her  white  shroud, 
Heareth  the  angel  breeze 

Call  from  the  cloud  I 
Tiny  plumes  fluttering 

Make  no  delay ! 
Little  winged  Dandelion 

Soareth  away. 

Helen  B»  Bostwick 

r 

Dandelions 

Upon  a  showery  night  and  still, 
Without  a  sound  of  warning, 

A  trooper  band  surprised  the  hill, 
And  held  it  in  the  morning. 

We  were  not  waked  by  bugle  notes, 
No  cheer  our  dreams  invaded, 


I 


THE   POSY   RING  99 

And  yet,  at  dawn  their  yellow  coats 
On  the  green  slopes  paraded. 

We  careless  folk  the  deed  forgot ; 

'Till  one  day,  idly  walking, 
We  marked  upon  the  self-same  spot 

A  crowd  of  vet'rans  talking. 
They  shook  their  trembling  heads  and  gray 

With  pride  and  noiseless  laughter  ; 
When,  well-a-day  !  they  blew  away, 

And  ne'er  were  heard  of  after  ! 

Helen  Gray  Cona 


The  Flax  Flower 

Oh,  the  little  flax  flower  ! 

It  groweth  on  the  hill, 
And,  be  the  breeze  awake  or  'sleep 

It  never  standeth  still. 
It  groweth,  and  it  groweth  fast ; 

One  day  it  is  a  seed 
And  then  a  little  grassy  blade 

Scarce  better  than  a  weed. 
But  then  out  comes  the  flax  flower 

As  blue  as  is  the  sky; 
And  "  'Tis  a  dainty  little  thing," 

We  say  as  we  go  by. 


100  THE   POSY    RING 

Ah  !  'tis  a  goodly  little  thing, 

It  groweth  for  the  poor, 
And  many  a  peasant  blesseth  it 

Beside  his  cottage  door. 
He  thinketh  how  those  slender  stems 

That  shimmer  in  the  sun 
Are  rich  for  him  in  web  and  woof 

And  shortly  shall  be  spun. 
He  thinketh  how  those  tender  flowers 

Of  seed  will  yield  him  store, 
And  sees  in  thought  his  next  year's  crop 

Blue  shining  round  his  door. 

Oh,  the  little  flax  flower  ! 

The  mother  then  says  she, 
"  Go,  pull  the  thyme,  the  heath,  the  fern. 

But  let  the  flax  flower  be ! 
It  groweth  for  the  children's  sake, 

It  groweth  for  our  own ; 
There  are  flowers  enough  upon  the  hill, 

But  leave  the  flax  alone  ! 
The  farmer  hath  his  fields  of  wheat, 

Much  cometh  to  his  share; 
We  have  this  little  plot  of  flax 

That  we  have  tilled  with  care." 

Oh,  the  goodly  flax  flower  ! 
It  groweth  on  the  hill, 


THE  POSY  RING  101 

And,  be  the  breeze  awake  or  'sleep, 

It  never  standeth  still. 
It  seemeth  all  astir  with  life 

As  if  it  loved  to  thrive, 
As  if  it  had  a  merry  heart 

Within  its  stem  alive. 
Then  fair  befall  the  flax-field, 

And  may  the  kindly  showers 
Give  strength  unto  its  shining  stem, 

Give  seed  unto  its  flowers  ! 

Mary  Howitt. 


Dear  Little  Violets 
Under  the  green  hedges  after  the  snow, 
There  do  the  dear  little  violets  grow, 
Hiding  their  modest  and  beautiful  heads 
Under  the  hawthorn  in  soft  mossy  beds. 

Sweet;  as  the  roses,  and  blue  as  the  sky, 
Down  there  do  the  dear  little  violets  He  ; 
Hiding  their  heads  where  they  scarce  may  be 

seen, 
By  the  leaves  you  may  know  where  the  violet 

hath  been. 

John  Moultrie. 

r 


102  THE   POSY   RING 

Birds  Song  in  Spring 

The  silver  birch  is  a  dainty  lady, 

She  wears  a  satin  gown; 
The  elm  tree  makes  the  old  churchyard  shady* 

She  will  not  live  in  town. 

The  English  oak  is  a  sturdy  fellow, 

He  gets  his  green  coat  late ; 
The  willow  is  smart  in  a  suit  of  yellow, 

While  brown  the  beech  trees  wait. 

Such  a  gay  green  gown  God  gives  the  larches- 

As  green  as  He  is  good  ! 
The  hazels  hold  up  their  arms  for  arches 

When  Spring  rides  through  the  wood. 

The  chestnut's  proud,  and  the  lilac's  pretty, 

The  poplar's  gentle  and  tall, 
But  the  plane  tree's  kind  to  the  poor  dull  city- 

I  love  him  best  of  all ! 

E.  Nesbit. 


The  Tree 

The  Tree's  early  leaf-buds  were  bursting  then! 

brown ; 
"  Shall   I   take   them   away  ? "   said   the   Frost, 

sweeping  down. 


THE  POSY  RING  103 

"  No,  leave  them  alone 
Till  the  blossoms  have  grown," 
Prayed  the  Tree,  while  he  trembled  from  rootlet 
to  crown. 

The  Tree  bore  his  blossoms,  and  all  the  birds 

sung: 
"  Shall  I  take  them  away  ? "  said  the  Wind,  as 
he  swung. 
"  No,  leave  them  alone 
Till  the  berries  have  grown," 
Said  the  Tree,  while  his  leaflets  quivering  hung. 

The  Tree  bore  his  fruit  in  the  mid-summer  glow : 
Said  the  girl,  "  May  I  gather  thy  berries  now  ?  " 
"  Yes,  all  thou  canst  see  : 
Take  them  ;  all  are  for  thee," 
Said  the  Tree,  while  he  bent  down  his  laden 
boughs  low. 

Bjornstjerne  Bjornson. 


The  Daisys  Song 

(A  Fragment) 

The  sun,  with  his  great  eye, 
Sees  not  so  much  as  I ; 
And  the  moon,  all  silver-proud 
Might  as  well  be  in  a  cloud. 


104  THE  POSY  RING 

And  O  the  spring — the  spring  1 
I  lead  the  life  of  a  king ! 
Couch'd  in  the  teeming  grass, 
I  spy  each  pretty  lass. 

I  look  where  no  one  dares, 
And  I  stare  where  no  one  stares, 
And  when  the  night  is  nigh 
Lambs  bleat  my  lullaby. 

John  Keats. 

r 

Song 

For  the  tender  beech  and  the  sapling  oak, 

That  grow  by  the  shadowy  rill, 
You  may  cut  down  both  at  a  single  stroke, 

You  may  cut  down  which  you  will. 

But  this  you  must  know,  that  as  long  as  they 
grow, 
Whatever  change  may  be, 
You  can  never  teach  either  oak  or  beech 
To  be  aught  but  a  greenwood  tree. 

Thomas  Love  Peacock. 

r 


THE   POSY   RING  105 

For  Good  Luck 
Little  Kings  and  Queens  of  the  May 
If  you  want  to  be, 
Every  one  of  you,  very  good, 
In  this  beautiful,  beautiful,  beautiful  wood, 
Where  the  little  birds'  heads  get  so  turned  with 

delight 
That  some  of  them  sing  all  night : 
Whatever  you  pluck, 
Leave  some  for  good  luck ! 

Picked  from  the  stalk  or  pulled  by  the  root, 

From  overhead  or  under  foot, 

Water- wonders  of  pond  or  brook — 

Wherever  you  look, 

And  whatever  you  find, 

Leave  something  behind : 

Some  for  the  Naiads, 

Some  for  the  Dryads, 

A.nd  a  bit  for  the  Nixies  and  Pixies  ! 

Juliana  Horatia  Ewing 

r 


HIAWArHA'S   BROTHERS 

r 

Of  all  beasts  he  learned  the  language. 
Learned  their  names  and  all  their  secrets. 
How  the  heavers  built  their  lodges, 
Wliere  the  squirrels  hid  their  acorns, 
How  the  reindeer  ran  so  swiftly, 
Why  the  rabbit  was  so  timid, 
Talked  with  them  whene'er  he  met  them, 
Called  them  "  Hiawatha  s  Brothers." 

Henry  Wadsworth  Longfellow, 


HIAWATHA'S    BKOTHER& 

r 

My  Pony 

My  pony  toss'd  his  sprightly  head, 

And  would  have  smiled,  if  smile  he  could,, 
To  thank  me  for  the  slice  of  bread 

He  thinks  so  delicate  and  good; 
His  eye  is  very  bright  and  wild, 

He  looks  as  if  he  loved  me  so, 
Although  I  only  am  a  child 

And  he's  a  real  horse,  you  know. 

How  charming  it  would  be  to  rear, 

And  have  hind  legs  to  balance  on; 
Of  hay  and  oats  within  the  year 

To  leisurely  devour  a  ton ; 
To  stoop  my  head  and  quench  my  drouth 

With  water  in  a  lovely  pail ; 
To  wear  a  snaffle  in  my  mouth, 

Fling  back  my  ears,  and  slash  my  tail! 

To  gallop  madly  round  a  field, — - 
Who  tries  to  catch  me  is  a  goose, 

And  then  with  dignity  to  yield 
My  stately  back  for  rider's  use ; 

109 


110  THE   POSY  RING 

To  feel  as  only  horses  can, 

When  matters  take  their  proper  course, 
And  no  one  notices  the  man, 

While  loud  applauses  greet  the  horse! 

He  canters  fast  or  ambles  slow, 

And  either  is  a  pretty  game ; 
His  duties  are  but  pleasures — oh, 

I  wish  that  mine  were  just  the  same  ! 
Lessons  would  be  another  thing 

If  I  might  turn  from  book  and  scroll, 
And  learn  to  gallop  round  a  ring, 

As  he  did  when  a  little  foal. 

It  must  be  charming  to  be  shod, 

And  beautiful  beyond  my  praise, 
When  tired  of  rolling  on  the  sod, 

To  stand  upon  all-fours  and  graze ! 
Alas !  my  dreams  are  weak  and  wild, 

I  must  not  ape  my  betters  so; 
Alas  !  I  only  am  a  child, 

And  he's  a  real  horse,  you  know. 

"A.* 

r 


THE   POSY   RING  111 

On  a  Spaniel,  called  Beau, 
Killing-  a  Young  Bird 

(July  15,  1793) 

A  Spaniel,  Beau,  that  fares  like  you, 

Well  fed,  and  at  his  ease, 
Should  wiser  be  than  to  pursue 

Each  trifle  that  he  sees. 

But  you  have  kill'd  a  tiny  bird, 

Which  flew  not  till  to-day, 
Against  my  orders,  whom  you  heard 

Forbidding  you  the  prey. 

Nor  did  you  kill  that  you  might  eat, 

And  ease  a  doggish  pain, 
For  him,  though  chas'd  with  furious  heat, 

You  left  where  he  was  slain. 

Nor  was  he  of  the  thievish  sort, 

Or  one  whom  blood  allures, 
But  innocent  was  all  his  sport 

Whom  you  have  torn  for  yours. 

My  dog  !     What  remedy  remains, 

Since,  teach  you  all  I  can, 
I  see  you,  after  all  my  pains, 

So  much  resemble  Man  ? 

William  Cowper. 


112  THE  POSY  RING 

Beau's  Reply 

Sir,  when  I  flew  to  seize  the  bird 
In  spite  of  your  command, 

A  louder  voice  than  yours  I  heard, 
And  harder  to  withstand. 

You  cried — forbear  ! — but  in  my  breast 
A  mightier  cried — proceed — 

'Twas  Nature,  Sir,  whose  strong  behest 
Impell'd  me  to  the  deed. 

Yet  much  as  Nature  I  respect, 

I  ventur'd  once  to  break, 
(As  you,  perhaps,  may  recollect) 

Her  precept  for  your  sake; 

And  when  your  linnet  on  a  day, 

Passing  his  prison  door, 
Had  flutter 'd  all  his  strength  away9 

And  panting  press'd  the  floor, 

Well  knowing  him  a  sacred  thing, 

Not  destin'd  to  my  tooth, 
I  only  kiss'd  his  ruffled  wing, 

And  lick'd  the  feathers  smooth. 

Let  my  obedience  then  excuse 

My  disobedience  now, 
Nor  some  reproof  yourself  refuse 

From  your  aggriev'd  Bow-wow; 


THE  POSY  RING  113 

If  killing  birds  be  such  a  crime, 

(Which  I  can  hardly  see,) 
What  think  you,  Sir,  of  killing  Time 

With  verse  address'd  to  me? 

William  Cowper. 

r 

Seal  Lullaby 
Oh,  hush  thee,  my  baby,  the  night  is  behind  us, 
And  black  are  the  waters   that  sparkled  so 
green, 
The  moon  o'er  the  combers,  looks  downward  to 
find  us 
At  rest  in  the  hollows  that  rustle  between. 
Where  billow  meets  billow,  there  soft  be  thy 
pillow; 
Ah,  weary  wee  flipperling,  curl  at  thy  ease ! 
The  storm  shall  not  wake  thee,  nor  shark  overtake 
thee, 
Asleep  in  the  arms  of  the  slow-swinging  seas, 

Rudyard  Kipling. 

r 

Milking   Time 
When  the  cows  come  home  the  milk  is  coming; 
Honey's  made  while  the  bees  are  humming ; 
Duck  and  drake  on  the  rushy  lake, 
And  the  deer  live  safe  in  the  breezy  brake ; 


U4  THE  POSY   RING 

And  timid,  funny,  pert  little  bunny 
Winks  his  nose,  and  sits  all  sunny. 

Christina  G.  Rossetti 

? 
Thank  You,  Pretty  Cow 
Thank  you,  pretty  cow,  that  made 
Pleasant  milk  to  soak  my  bread, 
Every  day  and  every  night, 
Warm,  and  fresh,  and  sweet,  and  white. 

Do  not  chew  the  hemlock  rank, 
Growing  on  the  weedy  bank; 
But  the  yellow  cowslip  eat, 
That  will  make  it  very  sweet. 

Where  the  purple  violet  grows, 
Where  the  bubbling  water  flows, 
Where  the  grass  is  fresh  and  fine, 
Pretty  cow,  go  there  and  dine. 

Jane  Taylor 

r 

The  Boy  and  the  Sheep 
**  Lazy  sheep,  pray  tell  me  why 
In  the  pleasant  field  you  lie, 
Eating  grass  and  daisies  wThite, 
From  the  morning  till  the  night? 
Everything  can  something  do; 
But  what  kind  of  use  are  you  ? " 


THE   POSY  RING  115 

"  Nay,  my  little  master,  nay, 
Do  not  serve  me  so,  I  pray ! 
Don't  you  see  the  wool  that  grows 
On  my  back  to  make  your  clothes  ? 
Cold,  ah,  very  cold  you'd  be, 
If  you  had  not  wool  from  me. 

"  True,  it  seems  a  pleasant  thing 
Nipping  daisies  in  the  spring; 
But  what  chilly  nights  I  pass 
On  the  cold  and  dewy  grass, 
Or  pick  my  scanty  dinner  where 
All  the  ground  is  brown  and  bare ! 

*'  Then  the  farmer  comes  at  last, 
When  the  merry  spring  is  past, 
Cuts  iny  woolly  fleece  away, 
For  your  coat  in  wintry  day. 
Little  master,  this  is  why 
In  the  pleasant  fields  I  lie." 

Ann  Taylor* 


Lambs  in   zhe   Meadow 
O  little  lambs !    the  month  is  cold, 
The  sky  is  very  gray; 
You  shiver  in  the  misty  grass 
And  bleat  at  all  the  winds  that  pass ; 


116  THE   POSY   RING 

Wait!    when  I'm  big — some  day— 
I'll  build  a  roof  to  every  fold. 

But  now  that  I  am  small  I'll  pray 

At  mother's  knee  for  you ; 

Perhaps  the  angels  with  their  wings; 

Will  come  and  warm  you,  little  things; 

I'm  sure  that,  if  God  knew, 

He'd  let  the  lambs  be  born  in  May. 

Laurence  Alma  Tadema. 


The  Pet   Lamb 

The  dew  was  falling  fast,  the  stars  began  to  blink ; 
I  heard  a  voice  ;  it  said,  "  Drink,  pretty  creature, 

drink ! " 
And,  looking  o'er  the  hedge,  before  me  I  espied 
A  snow-white  mountain-lamb,  with  a  maiden  at 

its  side. 

Nor  sheep  nor  kine  were  near ;  the  lamb  was  all 
alone. 

And  by  a  slender  cord  was  tethered  to  a  stone. 

With  one  knee  on  the  grass  did  the  little  maiden 
kneel, 

While  to  that  mountain-lamb  she  gave  its  even- 
ing meal. 


THE   POSY  KING  117 

The  lamb,  while  from  her  hand  he  thus  his  supper 

took, 
Seemed  to  feast,  with  head  and  ears,  and  his  tail 

with  pleasure  shook. 
"  Drink,  pretty  creature,  drink ! "  she   said,  in 

such  a  tone 
That  I  almost  received  her  heart  into  my  own. 

'Twas  little   Barbara    Lewthwaite,   a   child  of 

beauty  rare! 
I  watched  them  with  delight ;  they  were  a  lovely 

pain 
Now  with  her  empty   can  the  maiden  turned 

away, 
But  ere  ten  yards  were  gone  her  footsteps  did 

she  stay. 

Right  toward  the  lamb  she  looked ;  and  from  a 
shady  place, 

I,  unobserved,  could  see  the  workings  of  her  face. 

If  nature  to  her  tongue  could  measured  num- 
bers bring, 

Thus,  thought  I,  to  her  lamb  that  little  maid 
might  sing  :— 

"  What  ails   thee,  young  one  ?     what  ?     Why 

pull  so  at  thy  cord  ? 
Is  it  not  well  with  thee  ?    well  both  for  bed  and 

board  ? 


118  THE   POSY   RING 

Thy  plot  of  grass  is  soft,  and  green  as  grass  can  be, 
Rest,  little  young  one,  rest;  what  is't  that  aileth 
thee?  ' 

"What  is  it  thou   would'st  seek?      What  is 

wanting  to  thy  heart  ? 
Thy  limbs,  are  they  not  strong?  and  beautiful 

thou  art. 
This  grass  is  tender  grass,  these  flowers  they 

have  no  peers, 
And  that  green  corn  all  day  is  rustling  in  thy  ears. 

J*  If  the  sun  be  shining  hot,  do  but  stretch  thy 

woollen  chain, — 
This  beech  is  standing  by, — its  covert  thou  canst 

gain. 
For  rain  and   mountain  storms,  the  like  thou 

need'st  not  fear ; 
The  rain  and  storm  are  things  that  scarcely  can 

come  here. 

"Rest,  little  young  one,  rest;  thou  hast  forgot 

the  day 
When  my  father  found  thee  first,  in  places  far 

away. 
Many  flocks  were  on  the  hills,  but  thou  wert 

owned  by  none, 
And  thy  mother  from  thy  side  forevermore  was 

gone. 


THE  POSY   RING  119 

"  He  took  thee  in  his  arms,  and  in  pity  brought 

thee  home, — 
A  blessed  day  for  thee ! — Then  whither  would'st 

thou  roam  ? 
A  faithful  nurse  thou  hast;   the  dam  that  did 

thee  yean 
Upon  the  mountain-tops  no  kinder  could  have 

been. 

u  Thou  know'st  that  twice  a  day  I  have  brought 

thee  in  this  can 
Fresh  water  from  the  brook,  as  clear  as  ever  ran ; 
And  twice  in  the  day,  when  the  ground  was  wet 

with  dew, 
I  bring  thee  draughts  of  milk, — warm  milk  it  is, 

and  new. 

"  Thy  limbs  will  shortly  be  twice  as  stout  as  they 

are  now ; 
Then  I'll  yoke  thee  to  my  cart,  like  a  pony  to 

the  plough, 
My  playmate  thou  shalt  be,  and  when  the  wind 

is  cold, 
Our  hearth  shall  be  thy  bed,  our  house  shall  be 

thy  fold. 

"  It  will  not,  will  not  rest !  Poor  creature,  can  it  be 
That  'tis  thy  mother's  heart  which  is  working  so 
in  thee  ? 


120  THE  POSY  RING 

Things  that  I  know  not  of  belike  to  thee  are  dear, 
And  dreams  of  things  which  thou  canst  neither 
see  nor  hear. 

"  Alas,  the  mountain-tops  that  look  so  green  and 

fair ! 
I've  heard  of  fearful  winds  and  darkness  that 

come  there. 
The  little  brooks,  that  seem  all  pastime  and  all 

play, 
When  they  are  angry  roar  like  lions  for  their 

prey. 

cc  Here  thou  need'st  not  dread  the  raven  in  the  sky ; 
Night  and  day   thou   art   safe — our  cottage   is 

hard  by. 
Why  bleat  so  after  me?     why  pull  so  at  thy 

chain  ? 
Sleep, — and  at  break  of  day  I  will  come  to  thee 

again !" 

As  homeward  through  the  lane  I  went  with  lazy 

feet, 
This  song  to  myself  did  I  oftentimes  repeat ; 
And  it  seemed,  as  I  retraced  the  ballad  line  by 

line, 
That  but  half  of  it  was  hers  and  one  half  of  it 

was  mine. 


THE  POSY  RING  121 

Again  and  once  again  did  I  repeat  the  song: 
"  Nay,"  said  I,  "  more  than  half  to  the  cLuase] 

must  belong ; 
For  she  looked  with  such  a  look,  and  she  spake 

with  such  a  tone, 
That  I  almost  received  her  heart  into  my  own. 

William  Wordsworth. 


TJie  Kitten,  and  Falling  Leaves 

See  the  kitten  on  the  wall, 
Sporting  with  the  leaves  that  fall, 
Withered  leaves — one — two — and  three— 
From  the  lofty  elder  tree  ! 
Through  the  calm  and  frosty  air 
Of  this  morning  bright  and  fair, 
Eddying  round  and  round  they  sink 
Softly,  slowly  :  one  might  think 
From  the  motions  that  are  made, 
Every  little  leaf  conveyed 
Sylph  or  fairy  hither  tending, 
To  this  lower  world  descending, 
Each  invisible  and  mute, 
In  his  wavering  parachute. 
But  the  kitten,  how  she  starts, 
Crouches,  stretches,  paws  and  darts  t 


1S3  THE  POSY  RING 

First  at  one  and  then  its  fellow, 
Just  as  light  and  just  as  yellow; 
There  are  many  now — now  one — 
Now  they  stop  and  there  are  none : 
What  intenseness  of  desire 
In  her  upward  eye  of  fire  ! 
With  a  tiger-leap,  half-way, 
Now  she  meets  the  coming  prey  ; 
Lets  it  go  as  fast  and  then 
Has  it  in  her  power  again. 
Now  she  works  with  three  or  four, 
Like  an  Indian  conjuror ; 
Quick  as  he  in  feats  of  art, 
Far  beyond  in  joy  of  heart. 

c  »  •  t  •  • 

William  Wordsworth. 


4 


OTHER    LITTLE    CHILDREN 

f 

If  thou  couldst  know  thine  own  sweetness, 
O  little  one,  perfect  and  sweet, 
Thou  wouldst  be  a  child  forever  ; 
Completer  whilst  incomplete. 

Francis  Turner  Palgi^ave* 


OTHER    LITTLE    CHILDREN 

to  r~c\ 

f         f 

r 

Wliere  Go  the  Boats?* 

Dark  brown  is  the  river, 

Golden  is  the  sand. 
It  flows  along  forever 

With  trees  on  either  hand. 

Green  leaves  a-floating, 

Castles  of  the  foam, 
Boats  of  mine  a- boating — 

Where  will  all  come  home  ? 

On  goes  the  river 

And  out  past  the  mill, 
Away  down  the  valley, 

Away  down  the  hill. 

Away  down  the  river, 

A  hundred  miles  or  more, 

Other  little  children 

Shall  bring  my  boats  ashore. 

Robert  Louis  Stevenson. 

*  From"  A  Child's  Garden  of  Verses.""    By  permission  of  Charlet 
Scribner's  Sons. 

125 


126  THE   POSY   RING 

Cleanliness 

Come,  my  little  Robert,  near — 
Fie  !  what  filthy  hands  are  here ! 
Who,  that  e'er  could  understand 
The  rare  structure  of  a  hand, 
With  its  branching  fingers  fine, 
Work  itself  of  hands  divine, 
Strong,  yet  delicately  knit, 
For  ten  thousand  uses  fit, 
Overlaid  with  so  clear  skin 
You  may  see  the  blood  within, — 
Who  this  hand  would  choose  to  cover 
With  a  crust  of  dirt  all  over, 
Till  it  look'd  in  hue  and  shape 
Like  the  forefoot  of  an  ape  ! 
Man  or  boy  that  works  or  plays 
In  the  fields  or  the  highways, 
May,  without  offence  or  hurt, 
From  the  soil  contract  a  dirt 
Which  the  next  clear  spring  or  river 
Washes  out  and  out  for  ever — 
But  to  cherish  stains  impure, 
Soil  deliberate  to  endure, 
On  the  skin  to  fix  a  stain 
Till  it  works  into  the  grain, 
Argues  a  degenerate  mind, 
Sordid,  slothful,  ill-inclined, 


THE   POSY   RING  127 

Wanting  in  that  self-respect 
Which  does  virtue  best  protect. 
All-endearing  cleanliness, 
Virtue  next  to  godliness, 
Easiest,  cheapest,  needfull'st  duty, 
To  the  body  health  and  beauty ; 
Who  that's  human  would  refuse  it, 
When  a  little  water  does  it? 

Charles  and  Mary  Lamb. 


Wishing 

Ring-ting  !     I  wish  I  were  a  Primrose, 

A  bright  yellow  Primrose,  blowing  in  the  spring 

The  stooping  bough  above  me, 

The  wandering  bee  to  love  me, 
The  fern  and  moss  to  creep  across, 

And  the  Elm-tree  for  our  king ! 

Nay, — stay  !     I  wish  I  were  an  Elm-tree, 
A  great  lofty  Elm-tree,  with  green  leaves  gay ! 
The  winds  would  set  them  dancing, 
The  sun  and  moonshine  glance  in, 
And  birds  would  house  among  the  boughs, 
And  sweetly  sing. 

Oh — no  !     I  wish  I  were  a  Robin, — 

A  Robin,  or  a  little  Wren,  everywhere  to  go. 


128  THE   POSY   RING 

Through  forest,  field,  or  garden, 
And  ask  no  leave  or  pardon, 
Till  winter  comes  with  icy  thumbs 
To  ruffle  up  our  wing ! 

Well, — tell !  where  should  I  fly  to, 
Where  go  sleep  in  the  dark  wood  or  dell  ? 
Before  the  day  was  over, 
Home  must  come  the  rover, 
For  mother's  kiss, — sweeter  this 
Than  any  other  thing. 

William  Allingham. 

r 

The  Boy 

The  Boy  from  his  bedroom  window 

Look'd  over  the  little  town, 
And  away  to  the  bleak  black  upland 
.  Under  a  clouded  moon,, 

The  moon  came  forth  from  her  cavern. 

He  saw  the  sudden  gleam 
Of  a  tarn  in  the  swarthy  moorland ; 

Or  perhaps  the  whole  was  a  dream. 

For  I  never  could  find  that  water 

In  all  my  walks  and  rides  : 
Far-ofF,  in  the  Land  of  Memory, 

That  midnight  pool  abides. 


THE   POSY   RING  129 

Many  fine  things  had  I  glimpse  of, 

And  said,  ' '  I  shall  find  them  one  day." 

Whether  within  or  without  me 
They  were,  I  cannot  say. 

William  Allingham. 

r 

Infant  Joy 

"  I  have  no  name, 

I  am  but  two  days  old." 

What  shall  I  call  thee  ? 

* '  I  happy  am, 

Joy  is  my  name." 
Sweet  joy  befall  thee! 

Pretty  joy  ! 

Sweet  joy  but  two  days  old  ! 

Sweet  joy  I  call  thee. 

Thou  dost  smile, 

I  sing  the  while. 
Sweet  joy  befall  thee! 

William  Blake 

r 

A  Blessing  for  the  Blessed 

When  xhe  sun  has  left  the  hill-top 

And  the  daisy  fringe  is  furled, 
When  the  birds  from  wood  and  meadow 

In  their  hidden  nests  are  curled, 


130  THE   POSY  RING 

Then  I  think  of  all  the  babies 
That  are  sleeping  in  the  world. 

There  are  babies  in  the  high  lands 

And  babies  in  the  low, 
There  are  pale  ones  wrapped  in  furry  skins 

On  the  margin  of  the  snow, 
And  brown  ones  naked  in  the  isles 

Where  all  the  spices  grow. 

And  some  are  in  the  palace 

On  a  white  and  downy  bed, 
And  some  are  in  the  garret 

With  a  clout  beneath  their  head, 
And  some  are  on  the  cold  hard  earth, 

Whose  mothers  have  no  bread. 

O  little  men  and  women, 

Dear  flowers  yet  unblown — 
O  little  kings  and  beggars 

Of  the  pageant  yet  unshown — 
Sleep  soft  and  dream  pale  dreams  now, 

To-morrow  is  your  own. 

Laurence  Alma  Tadema 

r 


THE   POSY   RING  131 

Piping  Down  the  Valleys  Wild 

Piping  down  the  valleys  wild, 
Piping  songs  of  pleasant  glee, 

On  a  cloud  I  saw  a  child, 

And  he,  laughing,  said  to  me  % 

"  Pipe  a  song  about  a  lamb." 

So  I  piped  with  merry  cheer. 
"  Piper,  pipe  that  song  again.'* 

So  I  piped  ;  he  wept  to  hear. 

"  Drop  thy  pipe,  thy  happy  pipe, 
Sing  thy  songs  of  happy  cheer." 

So  I  sang  the  same  again, 

While  he  wept  with  joy  to  hear. 

"  Piper,  sit  thee  down  and  write, 
In  a  book,  that  all  may  read." — ■ 

So  he  vanished  from  my  sight, 
And  I  plucked  a  hollow  reed, 

And  I  made  a  rural  pen  ; 

And  I  stained  the  water  clear 
And  I  wrote  my  happy  songs 

Every  child  may  joy  to  hear. 

William  Blake. 


132  THE   POSY  RING 

A  Sleeping  Child 

Lips,  lips,  open ! 

Up  comes  a  little  bird  that  lives  inside, 
Up  comes  a  little  bird,  and  peeps,  and  out  he 
flies. 

All  the  day  he  sits  inside,  and   sometimes   he 

sings ; 
Up  he  comes  and  out  he  goes  at  night  to  spread 

his  wings. 

Little  bird,  little  bird,  whither  will  you  go? 
Round  about  the  world  while  nobody  can  know. 

Little  bird,  little  bird,  whither  do  you  flee  ? 
Far  away  round  the  world  while  nobody  can  see. 

Little  bird,  little  bird,  how  long  will  you  roam? 
All  round  the  world  and  around  again  home. 

Round  the  round  world,  and  back  through  the 

air, 
When  the  morning  comes,  the  little  bird  is  there. 

Back  comes  the  little  bird,  and  looks,  and  in  he 

flies. 
Up  wakes  the  little  boy,  and  opens  both  his  eyes. 

Sleep,  sleep,  little  boy,  little  bird's  away, 
Little  bird  will  come  again  by  the  peep  of  day ; 


THE   POSY   RING  133 

Sleep,  sleep,  little  boy,  little  bird  must  go 
Round  about  the  world,  while  nobody  can  know. 

Sleep,  sleep  sound,  little  bird  goes  round, 
Hound  and  round  he  goes, — sleep,  sleep  sound! 

Arthur  Hugh  Clough. 

r 

Birdies  with  Broken  Wings  * 

Birdies  with  broken  wings, 
Hide  from  each  other  ; 

But  babies  in  trouble 
Can  run  home  to  mother. 

Mary  Mapes  Dodge. 

r 

Seven  Times  One 

Exultation 

There's  no  dew  left  on  the  daisies  and  clover, 

There's  no  rain  left  in  heaven ; 
I've  said  my  "  seven  times  "  over  and  over — 

Seven  times  one  are  seven. 

I  am  old  !  so  old  I  can  write  a  letter; 

My  birthday  lessons  are  done  : 
The  lambs  play  always,  they  know  no  better  ; 

They  are  only  one  times  one. 

*  From  "Rhymes  and  Jingles."    By  permission  of  Charles  Scribner's 
Sons. 


134  THE   POSY   RING 

0  Moon !  in  the  night  I  have  seen  you  sailing, 
And  shining  so  round  and  low  ; 

You  were  bright !  ah,  bright !   but  your  light  is 
failing ; 
You  are  nothing  now  but  a  bow. 

You  Moon  !  have  you  done  something  wrong  in 
heaven, 
That  God  has  hidden  your  face? 

1  hope,  if  you  have,  you  will  soon  be  forgiven, 
And  shine  again  in  your  place. 

O  velvet  Bee  !  you're  a  dusty  fellow, 
You've  powrdered  your  legs  with  gold ; 

O  brave  marsh  Mary-buds,  rich  and  yellow  1 
Give  me  your  money  to  hold. 

O  Columbine  !  open  your  folded  wrapper 
Where  two  twin  turtle-doves  dwell ; 

O  Cuckoo-pint !  toll  me  the  purple  clapper, 
That  hangs  in  your  clear,  green  bell. 

And  show  me  your  nest  with  the  young  ones  in 
it— 
I  will  not  steal  them  away, 
*  am  old  !  you  may  trust  me,  Linnet,  Linnet,—* 
I  am  seven  times  one  to-day. 

Jean  Ingelow. 


THE   POSY   RING  135 

/  Remember,  I  Remember 

I  remember,  I  remember, 

The  house  where  I  was  born ; 
The  little  window  where  the  sun 

Came  peeping  in  at  morn ; 
He  never  came  a  wink  too  soon, 

Nor  brought  too  long  a  day; 
But  now  I  often  wish  the  night 

Had  borne  my  breath  away  1 

I  remember,  I  remember. 

The  roses,  red  and  white, 
The  violets,  and  the  lily-cups— 

Those  flowers  made  of  light ! 
The  lilacs  where  the  robin  built, 

And  where  my  brother  set 
The  laburnum,  on  his  birthday,—- 

The  tree  is  living  yet ! 

I  remember,  I  remember, 

Where  I  was  used  to  swing, 
And  thought  the  air  must  rush  as  fresh 

To  swallows  on  the  wing; 
My  spirit  flew  in  feathers  then, 

That  is  so  heavy  now. 
And  summer  pools  could  hardly  cool 

The  fever  on  my  brow  1 


136  THE   POSY  KING 

I  remember,  I  remember, 

The  fir  trees  dark  and  high ; 
I  used  to  think  their  slender  tops 

Were  close  against  the  sky; 
It  was  a  childish  ignorance, 

But  now  'tis  little  joy 
To  know  I'm  farther  off  from  heav'n 

Than  when  I  was  a  boy. 

Thomas  Hood. 

r 

Good-night  and  Good-moiiiing 

A  fair  little  girl  sat  under  a  tree 

Sewing  as  long  as  her  eyes  could  see  ; 

Then  smoothed  her  work  and  folded  it  right, 

And  said,  "  Dear  work,  good-night,  good-night !  * 

Such  a  number  of  rooks  came  over  her  head 
C  lying,  "  Caw,  caw  !  "  on  their  way  to  bed ; 
She  said,  as  she  watched  their  curious  flight, 
"  Little  black  things,  good-night,  good-night ! " 

The  horses  neighed,  and  the  oxen  lowed  ; 
The  sheep's  "  Bleat,  bleat ! "  came  over  the  road, 
All  seeming  to  say,  with  a  quiet  delight, 
"  Good  little  girl,  good-night,  good-night ! " 

She  did  not  say  to  the  sun,  "  Good-night ! " 
Though  she  saw  him  there  like  a  ball  of  light ; 


THE   POSY  RING  137 

For  she  knew  he  had  God's  own  time  to  keep 
All  over  the  world,  and  never  could  sleep. 

The  tall,  pink  Fox-glove  bowed  his  head-— 
The  Violets  curtsied,  and  went  to  bed ; 
And  good  little  Lucy  tied  up  her  hair, 
And  said,  on  her  knees,  her  favorite  prayer. 

And  while  on  her  pillow  she  softly  lay, 
She  knew  nothing  more  till  again  it  was  day, 
And  all  things  said  to  the  beautiful  sun, 
"Good-morning,   good-morning!     our   work    is 
begun." 

Lord  Houghton. 
(Richard  Monckton  Milnes.) 


Little  Children 

Sporting  through  the  forest  wide ; 
Playing  by  the  waterside  ; 
Wandering  o'er  the  heathy  fells ; 
Down  within  the  woodland  dells  j 
All  among  the  mountains  wild, 
Dwelleth  many  a  little  child  ! 
In  the  baron's  hall  of  pride  ; 
By  the  poor  man's  dull  fireside: 
'Mid  the  mighty,  'mid  the  mean. 
Little  children  may  be  seen, 


138  THE   POSY  RING 

Like  the  flowers  that  spring  up  fair, 
Bright  and  countless  everywhere ! 
In  the  far  isles  of  the  main ; 
In  the  desert's  lone  domain ; 
In  the  savage  mountain-glen, 
'Mong  the  tribes  of  swarthy  men ; 
Whereso'er  the  sun  hath  shone 
On  a  league  of  people'd  ground, 
Little  children  may  be  found  ! 
Blessings  on  them  !  they  in  me 
Move  a  kindly  sympathy, 
With  their  wishes,  hopes,  and  fears  5 
With  their  laughter  and  their  tears ; 
With  their  wonder  so  intense, 
And  their  small  experience ! 
Little  children,  not  alone 
On  the  wide  earth  are  ye  known, 
'Mid  its  labours  and  its  cares, 
'Mid  its  sufferings  and  its  snares  ; 
Free  from  sorrow,  free  from  strife, 
In  the  world  of  love  and  life, 
Where  no  sinful  thing  hath  trod — 
In  the  presence  of  your  God, 
Spotless,  blameless,  glorified — 
Little  children,  ye  abide  ! 

Mary  Howifct, 


THE   POSY  KING  139 

The  Angel's  Whisper 

A  baby  was  sleeping ; 

Its  mother  was  weeping ; 
For   her  husband  was  far  on  the  wild  raging 
sea  y 

And  the  tempest  was  swelling 

Hound  the  fisherman's  dwelling, 
And   she   cried,  "Dermot,   darling,   Oh,   come 

back  to  me  1 " 

* 

Her  beads  while  she  numbered 

The  baby  still  slumbered, 
And  smiled  in  her  face  as  she  bended  her  knee, 

"  Oh,  blest  be  that  warning, 

Thy  sweet  sleep  adorning, 
For  I  know  that  the  angels  are  whispering  to 
thee  ! 

"  And  while  they  are  keeping 

Bright  watch  o'er  thy  sleeping, 
Oh,  pray  to  them  softly,  my  baby,  with  me  I 

And  say  thou  would'st  rather 

They'd  watch  o'er  thy  father, 
For  I  know  that  the  angels  are  whispering  tc 
thee." 

The  dawn  of  the  morning 
Saw  Dermot  returning, 


140  THE  POSY  RING 

And  the  wife  wept  with  joy  her  babe's  father  to 
see ; 
And  closely  caressing 
Her  child  with  a  blessings 
Said,  "  I  knew  that  the  angels  were  whispering 
to  thee." 

Samuel  Lover. 

r 

Little  G-araine 

"  Where  do  the  stars  grow,  little  Garaine  ? 

The  garden  of  moons  is  it  far  away  ? 
The  orchard  of  suns,  my  little  Garaine, 

Will  you  take  us  there  some  day  ?  " 

"  If  you  shut  your  eyes,"  quoth  little  Garaine, 

"  I  will  show  you  the  way  to  go 
To  the  orchard  of  suns  and  the  garden  of  moons 

And  the  field  where  the  stars  do  grow. 

"  But  you  must  speak  soft,"  quoth  little  Garaine. 

"  And  still  must  your  footsteps  be, 
For  a  great  bear  prowls  in  the  field  of  stars. 

And  the  moons  they  have  men  to  see. 

"  And  the  suns  have  the  Children  of  Signs  to 
guard, 

And  they  have  no  pity  at  all 

You  must  not  stumble,  you  must  not  speaks 

When  you  come  to  the  orchard  wall. 


THE  POSY  KING  141 

*  The  gates  are  locked, "  quoth  little  Garaine, 
"  But  the  way  I  am  going  to  tell ! 

The  key  of  your  heart  it  will  open  them  all 
And  there's  where  the  darlings  dwell !  " 

Sir  Gilbert  Parker. 


A  Letter  j 

(To  Lady    Margaret    Cavendish  Holies- Harley,  when  a 

Child) 

My  noble,  lovely,  little  Peggy, 
Let  this  my  First  Epistle  beg  ye, 
At  dawn  of  morn,  and  close  of  even, 
To  lift  your  heart  and  hands  to  Heaven. 
In  double  duty  say  your  prayer  : 
Our  Father  first,  then  Notre  Pere. 

And,  dearest  child,  along  the  day, 
In  every  thing  you  do  and  say, 
Obey  and  please  my  lord  and  lady, 
So  God  shall  love  and  angels  aid  ye. 

If  to  these  precepts  you  attend, 
No  second  letter  need  I  send, 
And  so  I  rest  your  constant  friend. 

Matthew  Prior 


142  THE   POSY   RING 

Love  and  the  Child 

Toys,  and  treats,  and  pleasures  pass 
Like  a  shadow  in  a  glass, 
Like  the  smoke  that  mounts  on  high. 
Like  a  noonday's  butterfly. 

Quick  they  come  and  quick  they  ends 
Like  the  money  that  I  spend  ; 
Some  to-day,  to-morrow  more, 
Shorty  like  those  that  went  before. 

Mother,  fold  me  to  your  knees  ! 
How  much  should  I  care  for  these— 
Little  joys  that  come  and  go  ! 
If  you  did  not  love  me  so  ? 

And  when  things  are  sad  or  wrong,, 
Then  I  know  that  love  is  strong ; 
When  I  ache,  or  when  I  weep, 
Then  I  know  that  love  is  deep. 

Father,  now  my  prayer  is  said, 
Lay  your  hand  upon  my  head  ! 
Pleasures  pass  from  day  to  day, 
But  I  know  that  love  will  stay. 

While  I  sleep  it  will  be  near ; 
I  shall  wake  and  find  it  here ; 
I  shall  feel  it  in  the  air 
When  I  say  my  morning  prayer. 


THE   POSY   RING  143 

Maker  of  this  little  heart ! 
Lord  of  love  I  know  thou  art ! 
Little  heart !  though  thou  forget, 
Still  the  love  is  round  thee  set. 

William  Brighty  Rands. 

r 

Polly 

Brown  eyes,  straight  nose ; 
Dirt  pies,  rumpled  clothes. 

Torn  books,  spoilt  toys : 
Arch  looks,  unlike  a  boy's ; 

Little  rages,  obvious  arts  ; 
(Three  her  age  is),  cakes,  tarts  % 

Falling  down  off  chairs  ; 
Breaking  crown  down  stairs ; 

Catching  flies  on  the  pane ; 
Deep  sighs — cause  not  plain ; 

Bribing  you  with  kisses 
For  a  few  farthing  blisses. 

Wide-a-wake  ;  as  you  hear, 
"  Mercy's  sake,  quiet,  dear  !  M 


144  THE   POSY  RING 

New  shoes,  new  frock  ; 
Vague  views  of  what's  o'clock 

When  it's  time  to  go  to  bed, 

And  scorn  sublime  for  what  is  said. 

Folded  hands,  saying  prayers, 
Understands  not  nor  cares — 

Thinks  it  odd,  smiles  away ; 
Yet  may  God  hear  her  pray  ! 

Bed  gown  white,  kiss  Dolly ; 
Good  night ! — that's  Polly, 

Fast  asleep,  as  you  see, 
Heaven  keep  my  girl  for  me  1 

William  Brighty  Rands, 


A  Chill 

What  can  lambkins  do 
All  the  keen  night  through  ? 

Nestle  by  their  woolly  mother 
The  careful  ewe. 

What  can  nestlings  do 
In  the  nightly  dew? 

Sleep  beneath  their  mother's  wing 
Till  day  breaks  anew. 


THE   POSY  RING  145 

If  in  field  or  tree 

There  might  only  be 

Such  a  warm  soft  sleeping-place 

Found  for  me  I 

Christina  G.  RossettL 

r 

A  Child's  Laughter 

All  the  bells  of  heaven  may  ring. 
All  the  birds  of  heaven  may  singf 
All  the  wells  on  earth  may  spring 
All  the  winds  on  earth  may  bring 

All  sweet  sounds  together ; 
Sweeter  far  than  all  things  heard3 
Hand  of  harper,  tone  of  bird, 
Sound  of  woods  at  sundawn  stirred. 
Welling  water's  winsome  word, 

Wind  in  warm,  wan  weather. 

One  thing  yet  there  is  that  none 
Hearing,  ere  its  chime  be  done 
Knows  not  well  the  sweetest  one 
Heard  of  man  beneath  the  sun, 

Hoped  in  heaven  hereafter; 
Soft  and  strong  and  loud  and  light, 
Very  sound  of  very  light, 
Heard  from  morning's  rosiest  height,, 
When  the  soul  of  all  delight 

Fills  a  child's  clear  laughter. 


146  THE   POSY   RING 

Golden  bells  of  welcome  rolled 
Never  forth  such  note,  nor  told 
Hours  so  blithe  in  tones  so  bold, 
As  the  radiant  month  of  gold 

Here  that  rings  forth  heaven. 
If  the  golden-crested  wren 
Were  a  nightingale— why,  then 
Something  seen  and  heard  of  men 
Might  be  half  as  sweet  as  when 

Laughs  a  child  of  seven. 

Algernon  C.  Swinburne. 


The  Worlds  Music 

The  world's  a  very  happy  place, 

Where  every  child  should  dance  and  sings 
And  always  have  a  smiling  face, 

And  never  sulk  for  anything. 

I  waken  when  the  morning's  come, 
And  feel  the  air  and  light  alive 

With  strange  sweet  music  like  the  hum 
Of  bees  about  their  busy  hive. 

The  linnets  play  among  the  leaves 
At  hide-and-seek,  and  chirp  and  sing ; 

While,  flashing  to  and  from  the  eaves, 
The  swallows  twitter  on  the  wing. 


THE   POSY   RING  147 

And  twigs  that  shake,  and  boughs  that  sway ; 

And  tall  old  trees  you  could  not  climb ; 
And  winds  that  come,  but  cannot  stay, 

Are  singing  gayly  all  the  time. 

From  dawn  to  dark  the  old  mill-wheel 
Makes  music,  going  round  and  round ; 

And  dusty-white  with  flour  and  meal, 
The  miller  whistles  to  its  sound. 

The  brook  that  flows  beside  the  mill, 

As  happy  as  a  brook  can  be, 
Goes  singing  its  old  song  until 

It  learns  the  singing  of  the  sea. 

°For  every  wave  upon  the  sands 
Sings  songs  you  never  tire  to  hear, 

Of  laden  ships  from  sunny  lands 
Where  it  is  summer  all  the  year. 

And  if  you  listen  to  the  rain 

Where  leaves  and  birds  and  bees  are  dumbs 
You  hear  it  pattering  on  the  pane 

Like  Andrew  beating  on  his  drum. 

The  coals  beneath  the  kettle  croon, 

And  clap  their  hands  and  dance  in  glee ; 

And  even  the  kettle  hums  a  tune 
To  tell  you  when  it's  time  for  tea. 


148  THE   POSY   RING 

The  world  is  such  a  happy  place 
That  children,  whether  big  or  small, 

Should  always  have  a  smiling  face 
And  never,  never  sulk  at  all. 

Gabriel  Setoun. 


The  Little  Land* 

When  at  home  alone  I  sit 

And  am  very  tired  of  it, 

I  have  just  to  shut  my  eyes 

To  go  sailing  through  the  skies — 

To  go  sailing  far  away 

To  the  pleasant  Land  of  Play ; 

To  the  fairy  land  afar 

Where  the  Little  People  are ; 

Where  the  clover-tops  are  trees, 

And  the  rain-pools  are  the  seas, 

And  the  leaves  like  little  ships 

Sail  about  on  tiny  trips  ; 

And  above  the  daisy  tree 

Through  the  grasses, 
High  o'erhead  the  Bumble  Bee 

Hums  and  passes. 

*  From  "A  Child's  Garden  of  Verses."    By  permission  of  Charles 
Scribner's  Sons. 


THE  POSY  RING  149 

In  that  forest  to  and  fro 

I  can  wander,  I  can  go ; 

See  the  spider  and  the  fly, 

And  the  ants  go  marching  by 

Carrying  parcels  with  their  feet 

Down  the  green  and  grassy  street. 

I  can  in  the  sorrel  sit 

Where  the  ladybird  alit. 

I  can  climb  the  jointed  grass ; 

And  on  high 
See  the  greater  swallows  pass 

In  the  sky, 
And  the  round  sun  rolling  by 
Heeding  no  such  thing  as  I. 

Through  the  forest  I  can  pass 
Till,  as  in  a  looking-glass, 
Humming  fly  and  daisy  tree 
And  my  tiny  self  I  see, 
Painted  v^ery  clear  and  neat 
On  the  rain-pool  at  my  feet. 
Should  a  leaflet  come  to  land 
Drifting  near  to  where  I  stand, 
Straight  I'll  board  that  tiny  boat 
Round  the  rain-pool  sea  to  float. 

Little  thoughtful  creatures  sit 
On  the  grassy  coasts  of  it ; 


r50  THE   POSY  RING 

Little  things  with  lovely  eyes 
See  me  sailing  with  surprise. 
Some  are  clad  in  armour  green — ■ 
(These  have  sure  to  battle  been  !) 
Some  are  pied  with  ev'ry  hue, 
Black  and  crimson,  gold  and  blue ; 
Some  have  wings  and  swift  are  gone;— 
But  they  all  look  kindly  on. 

When  my  eyes  I  once  again 
Open  and  see  all  things  plain ; 
High  bare  walls,  great  bare  floor ; 
Great  big  knobs  on  drawer  and  door ; 
Great  big  people  perched  on  chairs, 
Stitching  tucks  and  mending  tears, 
Each  a  hill  that  I  could  climb, 
And  talking  nonsense  all  the  time — ■ 

O  dear  me, 

That  I  could  be 
A  sailor  on  the  rain-pool  sea, 
A  climber  in  the  clover-tree, 
And  just  come  back,  a  sleepy-head, 
Late  at  night  to  go  to  bed. 

Robert  Louis  Stevenson. 


THE  POSY  RING  151 

In  a  Garden 
Baby,  see  the  flowers  I 

Baby  sees 
Fairer  things  than  these, 
Fairer  though  they  be  than  dreams  of  ours. 
Baby,  hear  the  birds  ! 

Baby  knows 
Better  songs  than  those, 
Sweeter  though  they  sound  than  sweetest  words 

Baby,  see  the  moon  ! 
Baby's  eyes 
Laugh  to  watch  it  rise, 
Answering  light  with  love  and  night  with  noon. 

Baby,  hear  the  sea ! 

Baby's  face 
Takes  a  graver  grace, 
Touched  with  wonder  what  the  sound  may  be. 

Baby,  see  the  star  ! 

Baby's  hand 
Opens,  warm  and  bland, 
Calm  in  claim  of  all  things  fair  that  are. 

Baby,  hear  the  bells ! 

Baby's  head 
Bows  as  ripe  for  bed, 
Now  the  flowers  curl  round  and  close  their  cells. 


152  THE   POSY   KING 

Baby,  flower  of  light, 

Sleep  and  see 
Brighter  dreams  than  we, 
Till  good  day  shall  smile  away  good  night, 
Algernon  Charles  Swinburne, 

r 

Little  Gustavo, 
I 

Little  Gustava  sits  in  the  sun, 
Safe  in  the  porch,  and  the  little  drops  run 
From  the  icicles  under  the  eaves  so  fast, 
For  the  bright  spring  sun  shines  warm  at  last. 
And  glad  is  little  Gustava. 

II 

She  wears  a  quaint  little  scarlet  cap, 
And  a  little  green  bowl  she  holds  in  her  lap, 
Filled  with  bread  and  milk  to  the  brim, 
And  a  wreath  of  marigolds  round  the  rim. 
"  Ha !  ha  1 "  laughs  little  Gustava. 

Ill 

Up  comes  her  little  gray  coaxing  cat 
With  her  little  pink  nose,  and  she  mews,  "  What's 
that? * 


THE   POSY   RING  153 

Gustava  feeds  her, — she  begs  for  more ; 
And  a  little  brown  hen  walks  in  at  the  door 
"  Good  day ! "  cries  little  Gustava. 

IV 

She  scatters  crumbs  for  the  little  brown  hen. 
There  comes  a  rush  and  a  flutter,  and  then 
Down  fly  her  little  white  doves  so  sweet, 
With  their  snowy  wings  and  crimson  feet : 
"  Welcome ! "  cries  little  Gustava. 

V 

So  dainty  and  eager  they  pick  up  the  crumbs. 
But  who  is  this  through  the  doorway  comes  ? 
Little  Scotch  terrier,  little  dog  Rags, 
Looks  in  her  face,  and  his  funny  tail  wags : 
"  Ha,  ha ! "  laughs  little  Gustava. 

VI 

•-  You  want  some  breakfast  too  ? "  and  down 
She  sets  her  bowl  on  brick  floor  brown ; 
And  little  dog  Rags  drinks  up  her  milk, 
While  she  strokes  his  shaggy  locks  like  silk : 
"  Dear  Rags  ! "  says  little  Gustava. 

VII 

Waiting  without  stood  sparrow  and  crow, 
Cooling  their  feet  in  the  melting  snow : 


154  THE   POSY   RING 

*  Won't  you  come  in,  good  folk  ?  "  she  cried. 
But  they  were  too  bashful,  and  stood  outside 
Though  "  Pray  come  in  !  "  cried  Gustava. 

VIII 

So  the  last  she  threw  them,  and  knelt  on  the 

mat 
With  doves  and  biddy  and  dog  and  cat. 
And  her  mother  came  to  the  open  house-door 
'*  Dear  little  daughter,  I  bring  you  some  more. 
My  merry  little  Gustava  !  " 

IX 

Kitty  and  terrier,  biddy  and  doves, 
All  things  harmless  Gustava  loves. 
The  shy,  kind  creatures  'tis  joy  to  feed, 
And  oh  her  breakfast  is  sweet  indeed 
To  happy  little  Gustava  ! 

Celia  Thaxter. 


THE  POSY   RING  J  55 

A  Bunch  of  Roses 

The  rosy  mouth  and  rosy  toe 

Of  little  baby  brother, 
Until  about  a  month  ago 

Had  never  met  each  other  ; 
But  nowadays  the  neighbours  sweet, 

In  every  sort  of  weather, 
Half  way  with  rosy  fingers  meet, 

To  kiss  and  play  together. 

John  B.  Tabb. 


The  Child 

At  Bethlehem 

Long,  long  before  the  Babe  could  speak, 

When  he  would  kiss  his  mother's  cheek 

And  to  her  bosom  press, 

The  brightest  angels  standing  near 

Would  turn  away  to  hide  a  tear — 

For  they  are  motherless. 
*         -    *  *  *  *• 

John  B.  Tabb. 


156  THE    POSY   RING 

After  the  Storm 

*■  ■sfc  StJ-  %  ifc 

And  when, — its  force  expended, 
The  harmless  storm  was  ended, 
And  as  the  sunrise  splendid 

Came  blushing  o'er  the  sea — 
I  thought,  as  day  was  breaking, 
My  little  girls  were  waking, 
And  smiling  and  making 

A  prayer  at  home  for  me. 

William  Makepeace  Thackeray. 

r 

Lucy  Gray 

Oft  I  had  heard  of  Lucy  Gray ; 

And,  when  I  crossed  the  wild, 
I  chanced  to  see  at  break  of  day 

The  solitary  child. 

No  mate,  no  comrade,  Lucy  knew  ; 

She  dwelt  on  a  wide  moor, — 
The  sweetest  thing  that  ever  grew 

Beside  a  human  door  ! 

You  yet  may  spy  the  fawn  at  play, 

The  hare  upon  the  green  ; 
But  the  sweet  face  of  Lucy  Gray 

Will  never  more  be  seen. 


THE   POSY   RING  157 

"  To-night  will  be  a  stormy  night—  ■ 

You  to  the  town  must  go  : 
And  take  a  lantern,  child,  to  light 

Your  mother  through  the  snow." 

"  That,  father,  will  I  gladly  do : 

'Tis  scarcely  afternoon — 
The  minster-clock  has  just  struck  two; 

And  yonder  is  the  moon." 

At  this  the  father  raised  his  hook, 

And  snapped  a  faggot-band  ; 
He  plied  his  work ; — and  Lucy  took 

The  lantern  in  her  hand. 

Not  blither  is  the  mountain  roe: 

With  many  a  wanton  stroke 
Her  feet  disperse  the  powdery  snow, 

That  rises  up  like  smoke. 

The  storm  came  on  before  its  time 

She  wandered  up  and  down  ; 
And  many  a  hill  did  Lucy  climb, 

But  never  reached  the  town. 

The  wretched  parents  all  that  night 

Went  shouting  far  and  wide  ; 
But  there  was  neither  sound  nor  sight 

To  serve  them  for  a  guide. 


158  THE   POSY   RING 

At  daybreak  on  a  hill  they  stood 

That  overlooked  the  moor ; 
And  thence  they  saw  the  bridge  of  wood, 

A  furlong  from  their  door. 

They  wept — and,  turning  homeward,  cried, 
"  In  heaven  we  all  shall  meet !  " 

When  in  the  snow  the  mother  spied 
The  print  of  Lucy's  feet. 

Then  downwards  from  the  steep  hill's  edge 
They  tracked  the  footmarks  small ; 

And  through  the  broken  hawthorn  hedge,, 
And  by  the  low  stone  wall : 

And  then  an  open  field  they  crossed ; 

The  marks  were  still  the  same ; 
They  tracked  them  on,  nor  ever  lost ; 

And  to  the  bridge  they  came. 

They  follow  from  the  snowy  bank 

Those  footmarks,  one  by  one, 
Into  the  middle  of  the  plank ; 

And  further  there  were  none ! 

— Yet  some  maintain  that  to  this  day 

She  is  a  living  child  ; 
That  you  may  see  sweet  Lucy  Gray 

Upon  the  lonesome  wild. 


THE  POSY  RING  159 

O'er  rough  and  smooth  she  trips  along, 

And  never  looks  behind  ; 
And  sings  a  solitary  song 

That  whistles  in  the  wind. 

William  Wordsworth 

r 

Deaf  and  Dumb 

He  lies  on  the  grass,  looking  up  to  the  sky; 
Blue  butterflies  pass  like  a  breath  or  a  sigh, 
The  shy  little  hare  runs  confidingly  near,  ' 
And  wise  rabbits  stare  with  inquiry,  not  fear: 
Gay  squirrels  have  found  him  and  made  him 

their  choice  ; 
All  creatures  flock  round  him,  and  seem  to  re- 
joice. 

Wild  ladybirds  leap  on  his  cheek  fresh  and  fair, 
Young  partridges  creep,  nestling  under  his  hair, 
Brown  honey-bees  drop  something  sweet  on  his 

lips, 
Rash  grasshoppers  hop  on  his  round  finger-tips, 
Birds  hover  above  him  with  musical  call; 
All  things  seem  to  love  him,  and  he  loves  them 

all. 

Is  nothing  afraid  of  the  boy  lying  there? 
Would  all  nature  aid  if  he  wanted  its  care  ? 


160  THE   POSY   RING 

Things  timid  and  wild  with  soft  eagerness  come. 
Ah,  poor  little  child  ! — he  is  deaf — he  is  dumb. 
But  what  can  have  brought  them  ?   but  how  can 

they  know? 
What  instinct  has  taught  them  to  cherish  him  so? 

Since  first  he  could  walk  they  have  served  him 

like  this. 
His  lips  could  not  talk,  but  they  found  they 

could  kiss. 
They  made  him  a  court,  and  they  crowned  him  a 

king; 
Ah,  who  could  have  thought  of  so  lovely  a  thing  ? 
They  found  him  so  pretty,  they  gave  him  their 

hearts, 
And   some  divine  pity  has  taught  them  their 

parts  1 

"A.* 


The  Blind  Boy 

O,  say,  what  is  that  thing  called  Light, 
Which  I  must  ne'er  enjoy  ? 

What  are  the  blessings  of  the  sight  ? 
O  tell  your  poor  blind  boy  1 

You  talk  of  wondrous  things  you  see; 
You  say  the  sun  shines  bright; 


THE   POSY   RING  161 

I  feel  him  warm,  but  how  can  he 
Make  either  day  or  night  ? 

My  day  and  night  myself  I  make, 

Whene'er  I  sleep  or  play, 
And  could  I  always  keep  awake, 

With  me  'twere  always  day. 

With  heavy  sighs  I  often  hear 
You  mourn  my  hapless  woe; 

But  sure  with  patience  I  can  bear 
A  loss  I  ne'er  can  know. 

Then  let  not  what  I  cannot  have 

My  peace  of  mind  destroy ; 
Whilst  thus  I  sing,  I  am  a  king, 

Although  a  poor  blind  boy  i 

Colley  Cibber. 


VII 

PLAY-TIME 

r    t 
r 

Tfe  worlds  a  very  happy  place, 

Where  every  child  should  dance  and  sing, 
Ana  akvays  have  a  smiling  face, 

And  never  sulk  for  anything. 

Gabriel  Setoun. 


PLAY-TIME 
f       f 

r 

A  Boy's  Song 
Where  the  pools  are  bright  and  deep, 
Where  the  gray  trout  lies  asleep, 
Up  the  river  and  o'er  the  lea, 
That's  the  way  for  Billy  and  me. 

Where  the  blackbird  sings  the  latest, 
Where  the  hawthorn  blooms  the  sweetest. 
Where  the  nestlings  chirp  and  flee, 
That's  the  way  for  Billy  and  me. 

Where  the  mowers  mow  the  cleanest, 
Where  the  hay  lies  thick  and  greenest, 
There  to  trace  the  homeward  bee, 
That's  the  way  for  Billy  and  me. 

Where  the  hazel  bank  is  steepest, 
Where  the  shadow  falls  the  deepest, 
Where  the  clustering  nuts  fall  free, 
That's  the  way  for  Billy  and  me. 

Why  the  boys  should  drive  away 
Little  sweet  maidens  from  the  play, 
Or  love  to  banter  and  fight  so  well, 
That's  the  thing  I  never  could  tell. 

165 


166  THE   POSY   RING 

But  this  I  know,  I  love  to  play, 
Through  the  meadow,  among  the  hay, 
Up  the  water  and  o'er  the  lea, 
That's  the  way  for  Billy  and  me. 

James  Hogg  (The  Ettrick  Shepherd). 


The  Lost  Dolt 

i  once  had  a  sweet  little  doll,  dears, 

The  prettiest  doll  in  the  world; 
Her  cheeks  were  so  red  and  white,  dears, 

And  her  hair  was  so  charmingly  curled. 
But  I  lost  my  poor  little  doll,  dears, 

As  I  played  on  the  heath  one  day ; 
And  I  cried  for  her  more  than  a  week,  dears. 

But  I  never  could  find  where  she  lay. 

I  found  my  poor  little  doll,  dears, 

As  I  played  on  the  heath  one  day; 
Folks  say  she  is  terribly  changed,  dears, 

For  her  paint  is  all  washed  away, 
And  her  arms  trodden  off  by  the  cows,  dears, 

And  her  hair  not  the  least  bit  curled ; 
Yet  for  old  sake's  sake,  she  is  still,  dears, 

The  prettiest  doll  in  the  world. 

Charles  Kingsley 


THE   POSY  RING  107 

Dolladine 

This  is  her  picture — Dolladine— 
The  beautifullest  doll  that  ever  was  seen  ! 
Oh,  what  nosegays  !     Oh,  what  sashes  1 
Oh,  what  beautiful  eyes  and  lashes ! 

Oh,  what  a  precious  perfect  pet ! 
On  each  instep  a  pink  rosette; 
Little  blue  shoes  for  her  little  blue  tots; 
Elegant  ribbons  in  bows  and  knots. 

Her  hair  is  powdered;  her  arms  are  straight, 
Only  feel,  she  is  quite  a  weight  1 
Her  legs  are  limp,  though  ; — stand  up,  miss  ! — 
What  a  beautiful  buttoned-up  mouth  to  kiss  ! 

William  Brighty  Rands., 

r 

Dressing  the  Doll 

This  is  the  way  we  dress  the  Doll: — 
You  may  make  her  a  shepherdess,  the  Doll, 
If  you  give  her  a  crook  with  a  pastoral  hook, 
But  this  is  the  way  we  dress  the  Doll. 

Chorus. 

Bless  the  Doll,  you  may  press  the  Doll, 
But  do  not  crumple  and  mess  the  Doll  I 
This  is  the  way  we  dress  the  DolL 


168  THE   POSY  RING 

First,  you  observe  her  little  chemise, 
As  white  as  milk,  with  ruches  of  silk ; 
And  the  little  drawers  that  cover  her  knees, 
As  she  sits  or  stands,  with  golden  bands, 
And  lace  in  beautiful  filagrees. 

Chorus. 

Bless  the  Doll,  you  may  press  the  Doll, 
But  do  not  crumple  or  mess  the   Doll ! 
This  is  the  way  we  dress  the  Doll. 

Now  these  are  the  bodies  :  she  has  two, 
One  of  pink,  with  ruches  of  blue, 
And  sweet  white  lace ;  be  careful,  do ! 
And  one  of  green,  with  buttons  of  sheens 
Buttons  and  bands  of  gold,  I  mean, 
With  lace  on  the  border  in  lovely  order, 
The  most  expensive  we  can  afford  her ! 

Chorus. 

Bless  the  Doll,  you  may  press  the  Doll, 
But  do  not  crumple  or  mess  the  Doll ! 
This  is  the  way  we  dress  the  Doll.4 

Then,  with  black  at  the  border,  jacket 
And  this — and  this — she  will  not  lack  it ; 
Skirts?     Why,  there  are  skirts,  of  course, 
And  shoes  and  stockings  we  shall  enforce, 


THE  POSY   RING  169 

With  a  proper  bodice,  in  the  proper  place 

(Stays  that  lace  have  had  their  days 

And  made  their  martyrs) ;  likewise  garters, 

All  entire.     But  our  desire 

Is  to  show  you  her  night  attire, 

At  least  a  part  of  it.     Pray  admire 

This  sweet  white  thing  that  she  goes  to  bed  in ! 

It's  not  the  one  that's  made  for  her  wedding ; 

That  is  special,  a  new  design, 

Made  with  a  charm  and  a  countersign, 

Three  times  three  and  nine  times  nine : 

These  are  only  her  usual  clothes : 

Look,  there's  a  wardrobe  !  gracious  knows 

It's  pretty  enough,  as  far  as  it  goes ! 

So  you  see  the  way  we  dress  the  Doll : 
You  might  make  her  a  shepherdess,  the  Doll, 
If  you  gave  her  a  crook  with  a  pastoral  hook, 
With  sheep,  and  a  shed,  and  a  shallow  brook, 
And  all  that,  out  of  the  poetry-book. 

Chorus. 

Bless  the  Doll,  you  may  press  the  Doll, 
But  do  not  crumple  and  mess  the  Doll ! 
This  is  the  way  we  dress  the  Doll ; 
If  you  had  not  seen,  could  you  guess  the  Doll  ? 

William  Brighty  Rands- 


170  THE   POSY   RING 

The  Pedlar's  Caravan 

I  wish  I  lived  in  a  caravan, 
With  a  horse  to  drive,  like  the  pedlar-man ! 
Where  he  comes  from  nobody  knows, 
Or  where  he  goes  to,  but  on  he  goes  1 

His  caravan  has  windows  two, 

And  a  chimney  of  tin,  that  the  smoke  comes 

through ; 
He  has  a  wife,  with  a  baby  brown, 
And  they  go  riding  from  town  to  town. 

Chairs  to  mend,  and  delf  to  sell ! 
He  clashes  the  basins  like  a  bell ; 
Tea-trays,  baskets  ranged  in  order, 
Plates  with  the  alphabet  round  the  border! 

The  roads  are  brown,  and  the  sea  is  green, 
But  his  house  is  just  like  a  bathing-machine; 
The  world  is  round,  and  he  can  ride, 
Rumble  and  splash,  to  the  other  side ! 

With  the  pedlar-man  I  should  like  to  roam, 
And  write  a  book  when  I  came  home  ; 
All  the  people  would  read  my  book, 
Just  like  the  Travels  of  Captain  Cook ! 

William  Brighty  Rands. 


THE   POSY   RING  171 

A  Sea-Song  from  the  Shore 

Hail !     Ho  1 

Sail !     Ho ! 
Ahoy  !    Ahoy  !    Ahoy ! 

Who  calls  to  me, 

So  far  at  sea  ? 
Only  a  little  boy ! 

Sail!     Ho! 

Hail !     Ho ! 
The  sailor  he  sails  the  sea : 

I  wish  he  would  capture  a  little  sea-horse 
And  send  him  home  to  me. 

I  wish,  as  he  sails 

Through  the  tropical  gales, 
He  would  catch  me  a  sea-bird,  too, 

With  its  silver  wings 

And  the  song  it  sings, 
And  its  breast  of  down  and  dew ! 

1  wish  he  would  catch  me  a 

Little  mermaid, 
Some  island  where  he  lands, 

With  her  dripping  curls, 

And  her  crown  of  pearls, 
And  the  looking-glass  in  her  hands  I 


172  THE   POSY  RING 

Hail!    Hoi 

Sail!     Ho! 
Sail  far  o'er  the  fabulous  main ! 

And  if  I  were  a  sailor, 

I'd  sail  with  you, 
Though  I  never  sailed  back  again. 

James  Whitcomb  Riley. 

r 

The  Land  of  Story-Books # 
At  evening  when  the  lamp  is  lit, 
Around  the  fire  my  parents  sit ; 
They  sit  at  home  and  talk  and  sing* 
And  do  not  play  at  anything. 

Now,  with  my  little  gun,  I  crawl 
All  in  the  dark  along  the  wall, 
And  follow  round  the  forest  track 
Away  behind  the  sofa  back. 

There,  in  the  night,  where  none  can  spy* 
All  in  my  hunter's  camp  I  lie, 
And  play  at  books  that  I  have  read 
Till  it  is  time  to  go  to  bed. 

These  are  the  hills,  these  are  the  woods, 
These  are  my  starry  solitudes ; 
And  there  the  river  by  whose  brink 
The  roaring  lions  come  to  drink. 

*  From  "A  Child's  Garden  of  Verses,"  by  Robert  Louis  Stevenson. 
By  permission  of  Charles  Scribner's  Sons.  / 


THE  POSY   RING  173 

I  see  the  others  far  away 
As  if  in  firelit  camp  they  lay, 
And  I,  like  to  an  Indian  scout, 
Around  their  party  prowled  about. 

So,  when  my  nurse  comes  in  for  me, 
Home  I  return  across  the  sea, 
And  go  to  bed  with  backward  looks 
At  my  dear  land  of  Story-books. 

Robert  Louis  Stevenson. 


The  City  Child 

Dainty  little  maiden,  whither  would  you  wander  ? 
Whither  from  this  pretty  home,  the  home  where 

mother  dwells  ? 
"  Far  and  far  away,"  said  the  dainty  little  maiden, 
"  All  among  the  gardens,  auriculas,  anemones, 
Roses  and  lilies  and  Canterbury  bells." 

Dainty  little  maiden,  whither  would  you  wander  ? 
Whither  from  this  pretty  house,  this  city-house 

of  ours  ? 
"  Far  and  far  away,"  said  the  dainty  little  maiden, 
"All  among  the  meadows,  the  clover  and  the 

clematis, 
Daisies  and  kingcups  and  honeysuckle-flowers." 

Alfred,  Lord  Tennyson. 


174  THE  POSY  RING 

Going  into  Breeches 

Joy  to  Philip !  he  this  day- 
Has  his  long  coats  cast  away, 
And  (the  childish  season  gone) 
Put  the  manly  breeches  on. 
Officer  on  gay  parade, 
Red-coat  in  his  first  cockade, 
Bridegroom  in  his  wedding-trim. 
Birthday  beau  surpassing  him, 
Never  did  with  conscious  gait 
Strut  about  in  half  the  state 
Or  the  pride  (yet  free  from  sin) 
Of  my  little  manikin  : 
Never  was  there  pride  or  bliss 
Half  so  rational  as  his. 
Sashes,  frocks,  to  those  that  need  'era, 
Philip's  limbs  have  got  their  freedom- 
He  can  run,  or  he  can  ride, 
And  do  twenty  things  beside, 
Which  his  petticoats  forbade; 
Is  he  not  a  happy  lad  ? 
Now  he's  under  other  banners 
He  must  leave  his  former  manners; 
Bid  adieu  to  female  games 
And  forget  their  very  names ; 
Puss-in-corners,  hide-and-seek, 
Sports  for  girls  and  punies  weak ! 


THE  POSY  RING  175 

Baste-the-bear  he  now  may  play  at; 
Leap-frog,  foot-ball  sport  away  at; 
Show  his  skill  and  strength  at  cricket, 
Mark  his  distance,  pitch  his  wicket; 
Run  about  in  winter's  snow 
Till  his  cheeks  and  ringers  glow; 
Climb  a  tree  or  scale  a  wall 
Without  any  fear  to  fall. 
If  he  get  a  hurt  or  bruise, 
To  complain  he  must  refuse, 
Though  the  anguish  and  the  smart 
Go  unto  his  little  heart; 
He  must  have  his  courage  ready, 
Keep  his  voice  and  visage  steady ; 
Brace  his  eyeballs  stiff  as  drum, 
That  a  tear  may  never  come ; 
And  his  grief  must  only  speak 
From  the  colour  in  his  cheek. 
This  and  more  he  must  endure, 
Hero  he  in  miniature. 
This  and  more  must  now  be  done, 
Now  the  breeches  are  put  on. 

Charles  and  Mary  Lamb. 

r 


If 6  THE  POSY  RING 

Hunting  Song 
Up,  up  !  ye  dames  and  lasses  gay ! 
To  the  meadows  trip  away. 
"Tis  you  must  tend  the  flocks  this  morn, 
And  scare  the  small  birds  from  the  corn, 
Not  a  soul  at  home  may  stay: 
For  the  shepherds  must  go 
With  lance  and  bow 
To  hunt  the  woli  in  the  woods  to-day. 

Leave  the  hearth  and  leave  the  house 
To  the  cricket  and  the  mouse : 
Find  grannam  out  a  sunny  seat, 
^"ith  babe  and  lambkin  at  her  feet. 
Not  a  soul  at  home  may  stay : 
For  the  shepherds  must  go 
With  lance  and  bow 
To  hunt  the  wolf  in  the  woods  to-day. 
Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge. 

r 

Hie  Away 
Hie  away,  hie  away  ! 
Over  bank  and  over  brae, 
Where  the  copsewood  is  the  greenest, 
Where  the  fountains  glisten  sheenest, 
Where  the  lady  fern  grows  strongest, 
Where  the  morning  dew  lies  longest, 


THE   POSY   RING  177 

Where  the  blackcock  sweetest  sips  it, 
Where  the  fairy  latest  trips  it : 
Hie  to  haunts  right  seldom  seen, 
Lovely,  lonesome,  cool,  and  green, 
Over  bank  and  over  brae, 
Hie  away,  hie  away  ! 

Sir  Walter  Scott. 


VII 

STORY  TIME 
If       f 

r 

And  I  made  a  rural  pen; 

And  I  stained  the  water  clear 
And  I  wrote  my  happy  songs 

Every  child  may  joy  to  hear. 

William  Blake, 


STORY     TIME 


to 


r 

Come  cuddle  close  in  daddy's  coat 

Beside  the  fire  so  bright, 
And  hear  about  the  fairy  folk 

That  wander  in  the  night. 
For  when  the  stars  are  shining  clear 

And  all  the  world  is  still, 
They  float  across  the  silver  moon 

From  hill  to  cloudy  hill. 

Their  caps  of  red,  their  cloaks  of  green, 

Are  hung  with  silver  bells, 
And  when  they're  shaken  with  the  wind 

Their  merry  ringing  swells. 
And  riding  on  the  crimson  moth, 

With  black  spots  on  his  wings, 
They  guide  them  down  the  purple  sky 

With  golden  bridle  rings. 

181 


182  THE   POSY   RING 

They  love  to  visit  girls  and  boys 

To  see  how  sweet  they  sleep, 
To  stand  beside  their  cosy  cots 

And  at  their  faces  peep. 
For  in  the  whole  of  fairy  land 

They  have  no  finer  sight 
Than  little  children  sleeping  sound 

With  faces  rosy  bright. 

On  tip-toe  crowding  round  their  heads, 

When  bright  the  moonlight  beams, 
They  whisper  little  tender  words 

That  fill  their  minds  with  dreams; 
And  when  they  see  a  sunny  smile, 

With  lightest  finger  tips 
They  lay  a  hundred  kisses  sweet 

Upon  the  ruddy  lips. 

And  then  the  little  spotted  moths 

Spread  out  their  crimson  wings, 
And  bear  away  the  fairy  crowd 

With  shaking  bridle  rings. 
Come  bairnies,  hide  in  daddy's  coat, 

Beside  the  fire  so  bright — 
Perhaps  the  little  fairy  folk 

Will  visit  you  to-night. 

Robert  Bird. 

r 


THE  POSY   RING  183 

A  Fairy  in  Armor 

He  put  his  acorn  helmet  on; 

It  was  plumed  of  the  silk  of  the  thistle  down ; 

The  corslet  plate  that  guarded  his  breast 

Was  once  the  wild  bee's  golden  vest ; 

His  cloak,  of  a  thousand  mingled  dyes, 

Was  formed  of  the  wings  of  butterflies  ; 

His  shield  was  the  shell  of  a  lady-bug  green, 

Studs  of  gold  on  a  ground  of  green  ; 

And  the  quivering  lance  which  he   brandished 

bright, 
Was  the  sting  of  a  wasp  he  had  slain  in  fight. 
Swift  he  bestrode  his  fire-fly  steed  ; 

He  bared  his  blade  of  the  bent-grass  blue ; 
He  drove  his  spurs  of  the  cockle-seed, 

And  away  like  a  glance  of  thought  he  flew, 
To  skim  the  heavens,  and  follow  far 
The  fiery  trail  of  the  rocket- star. 

Joseph  Rodman  Drake. 


184  THE   POSY   RING 

The  Last  Voyage  of  the  Fairies 

Down  the  bright  stream  the  Fairies  float, — 
A  water-lily  is  their  boat. 

Long  rushes  they  for  paddles  take. 
Their  mainsail  of  a  bat's  wing  make ; 

The  tackle  is  of  cobwebs  neat, — 
With  glow-worm  lantern  all's  complete. 

So  down  the  broad'ning  stream  they  floats 
With  Puck  as  pilot  of  the  boat. 

The  Queen  on  speckled  moth-wings  lies, 
And  lifts  at  times  her  languid  eyes 

To  mark  the  green  and  mossy  spots 
Where  bloom  the  blue  forget-me-nots : 

Oberon,  on  his  rose-bud  throne, 
Claims  the  fair  valley  as  his  own : 

And  elves  and  fairies,  with  a  shout 
Which  may  be  heard  a  yard  about, 

Hail  him  as  Elfland's  mighty  King; 
And  hazel-nuts  in  homage  bring, 

And  bend  the  unreluctant  knee, 
And  wave  their  wands  in  loyalty. 


THE   POSY   RING  185 

Down  the  broacH&ream  the  Fairies  float, 
An  unseen  power  #h|)els  their  boat ; 

Cg 

The  banks  fly  past — ea^h  wooded  scene — 

The  elder  copse — the  powers  green — 

And  soon  they  feel  the  briny^breeze 
With  salt  and  savour  of  the  seajs, — 

Still  down  the  stream  the  Fairies  fjoat, 


An  unseen  power  impels  their  boat ;  *  y 

Until  they  mark  the  rushing  tide 
Within  the  estuary  wide. 

A.nd  now  they're  tossing  on  the  sea, 
Where  waves  roll  high,  and  winds  blow  free,- 

Ah,  mortal  vision  nevermore 
Shall  see  the  Fairies  on  the  shore, 

Or  watch  upon  a  summer  night 
Their  mazy  dances  of  delight  1 

Far,  far  away  upon  the  sea, 

The  waves  roll  high,  the  breeze  blows  free ! 

The  Queen  on  speckled  moth- wings  lies, 
Slow  gazing  with  a  strange  surprise 

Where  swim  the  sea-nymphs  on  the  tide 
Or  on  the  backs  of  dolphins  ride : 


186  THE   POSY   RING 

The  King,  upon  his  rose-bud  throne, 
Pales  as  he  hears  the  waters  moan ; 

The  elves  have  ceased  their  sportive  play, 
Hushed  by  the  slowly  sinking  day  : 

And  still  afar,  afar  they  float, 
The  Fairies  in  their  fragile  boat, — 

Further  and  further  from  the  shore, 
And  lost  to  mortals  evermore  ! 

W.  H.  Davenport  Adams. 


A  New  Fern 
A  Fairy  has  found  a  new  fern  ! 

A  lovely  surprise  of  the  May  ! 
She  stamps  her  wee   foot,    looks   uncommonly 
stern, 
And  keeps  other  fairies  at  bay. 

She  watches  it  flourish  and  grow — 

What  exquisite  pleasure  is  hers  ! 
She  kisses  it,  strokes  it  and  fondles  it  so — 

I  almost  believe  that  she  purrs  ! 

Of  all  the  most  beautiful  things, 

None  brighter  than  this  I  discern, 
To  be  a  young  fairy,  with  glittering  wings, 

And  then — to  discover  a  fern  I 

«A-* 


THE  POSY  RING  187 

The  Child  and  the  Fairies 

The  woods  are  full  of  fairies  1 

The  trees  are  all  alive : 
The  river  overflows  with  them, 

See  how  they  dip  and  dive  ! 
What  funny  little  fellows ! 

What  dainty  little  dears  ! 
They  dance  and  leap,  and  prance  and  peep, 

And  utter  fairy  cheers  ! 

•  •  •  •  •  • 

I'd  like  to  tame  a  fairy, 

To  keep  it  on  a  shelf, 
To  see  it  wash  its  little  face, 

And  dress  its  little  self. 
I'd  teach  it  pretty  manners, 

It  always  should  say  "  Please  ;* 
And  then  you  know  I'd  make  it  sew, 

And  curtsey  with  its  knees  ! 

"A, 


188  THE   POSY   RING 

The  Little  Elf 
I  met  a  little  Elf-man,  once, 

Down  where  the  lilies  blow. 
I  asked  him  why  he  was  so  small 

And  why  he  didn't  grow. 

He  slightly  frowned,  and  with  his  eye 
He  looked  me  through  and  through. 

"  I'm  quite  as  big  for  me,"  said  he. 
"  As  you  are  big  for  you." 

John  Kendrick  Bangs, 

r 

"One,  Two,  Three"* 
It  was  an  old,  old,  old,  old  lady 

And  a  boy  that  was  half-past  three, 
And  the  way  that  they  played  together 

Was  beautiful  to  see. 

She  couldn't  go  romping  and  jumping, 
And  the  boy,  no  more  could  he ; 

For  he  was  a  thin  little  fellow, 
With  a  thin  little  twisted  knee. 

They  sat  in  the  yellow  sunlight, 

Out  under  the  maple  tree, 
And  the  game  that  they  played  I'll  tell  you, 

Just  as  it  was  told  to  me. 

*From  "  The  Poems  of  H.  C.  Bunner."    Copyright,  1889,  by  Charles 
Scribner's  Sons- 


THE   POSY   RING  189 

It  was  Hide-and-Go-Seek  they  were  playing. 

Though  you'd  never  have  known  it  to  be — 
With  an  old,  old,  old,  old  lady 

And  a  boy  with  a  twisted  knee. 

The  T>oy  would  bend  his  face  down 

On  his  little  sound  right  knee. 
And  he  guessed  where  she  was  hiding 

In  guesses  One,  Two,  Three. 

"  You  are  in  the  china  closet ! " 

He  would  cry  and  laugh  with  glee — 

It  wasn't  the  china  closet, 

But  he  still  had  Two  and  Three. 

"  You  are  up  in  papa's  big  bedroom, 
In  the  chest  with  the  queer  old  key," 

And  she  said:  "  You  are  warm  and  warmer; 
But  you  are  not  quite  right,"  said  she. 

"  It  can't  be  the  little  cupboard 

Where  mamma's  things  used  to  be — 

So  it  must  be  in  the  clothes  press,  Gran'ma," 
And  he  found  her  with  his  Three. 

Then  she  covered  her  face  with  her  ringers, 
That  were  wrinkled  and  white  and  wee, 

And  she  guessed  where  the  boy  was  hiding, 
With  a  One  and  a  Two  and  a  Three. 


190  THE   POSY   RING 

And  they  never  had  stirred  from  their  places 

Right  under  the  maple  tree — 
This  old,  old,  old,  old  lady 

And  the  boy  with  the  lame  little  knee — 
This  dear,  dear,  dear  old  lady 

And  the  boy  who  was  half-past  three. 

Henry  C.  Bunner. 


Wliat  May  Happen  to  a  Thimble 

Come  about  the  meadow, 

Hunt  here  and  there, 
Where's  mother's  thimble  ? 

Can  you  tell  where  ? 
Jane  saw  her  wearing  it, 

Fan  saw  it  fall, 
Ned  isn't  sure 

That  she  dropp'd  it  at  alL 

Has  a  mouse  carried  it 

Down  to  her  hole — 
Home  full  of  twilight, 

Shady,  small  soul  ? 
Can  she  be  darning  there, 

Ere  the  light  fails, 
Small  ragged  stockings — • 

Tiny  torn  tails  ? 


THE  POSY  RING 

Did  a  finch  fly  with  it 

Into  the  hedge, 
Or  a  reed- warbler 

Down  in  the  sedge  ? 
Are  they  carousing  there, 

All  the  night  through  ? 
Such  a  great  goblet, 

Brimful  of  dew  ! 

Have  beetles  crept  with  it 

Where  oak  roots  hide  ? 
There  have  they  settled  it 

Down  on  its  side  ? 
Neat  little  kennel, 

So  cosy  and  dark, 
Has  one  crept  into  it, 

Trying  to  bark  ? 

Have  the  ants  cover'd  it 

With  straw  and  sand  ? 
Roomy  bell-tent  for  them9 

So  tall  and  grand; 
Where  the  red  soldier-ants 

Lie,  loll,  and  lean — 
While  the  blacks  steadily 

Build  for  their  queen. 

Has  a  huge  dragon-fly 
Borne  it  (how  cool  i) 


192  THE   POSY   RING 

To  his  snug  dressing-room. 
By  the  clear  pool  ? 

There  will  he  try  it  on, 
For  a  new  hat — 

Nobody  watching 
But  one  water-rat  ? 

Did  the  flowers  fight  for  it, 

While,  undescried, 
One  selfish  daisy 

Slipp'd  it  aside ; 
Now  has  she  plunged  it  in 

Close  to  her  feet — 
Nice  private  water -tank 

For  summer  heat  ? 

Did  spiders  snatch  at  it 

Wanting  to  look 
At  the  bright  pebbles 

Which  lie  in  the  brook? 
Now  are  they  using  it 

(Nobody  knows  !) 
Safe  little  diving-bell, 

Shutting  so  close  ? 

Hunt  for  it,  hope  for  it, 
All  through  the  moss ; 

Dip  for  it,  grope  for  it — ■ 
'Tis  such  a  loss  1 


THE   POSY   RING  193 

Jane  finds  a  drop  of  dew, 

Fan  finds  a  stone  ; 
I  find  the  thimble, 

Which  is  mother's  own ! 

Run  with  it,  fly  with  it — 
Don't  let  it  fall; 

All  did  their  best  for  it- 
Mother  thanks  all. 

Just  as  we  give  it  her, — ■ 
Think  what  a  shame  !— 

Ned  says  he's  sure 

That  it  isn't  the  same  ! 


Discontent 

Down  in  a  field,  one  day  in  June, 
The  flowers  all  bloomed  together, 

Save  one,  who  tried  to  hide  herself, 
And  drooped  that  pleasant  weather. 

A  robin,  who  had  flown  too  high, 

And  felt  a  little  lazy, 
Was  resting  near  a  buttercup 

Who  wished  she  were  a  daisy. 


194  THE   POSY   RING 

For  daisies  grew  so  trig  and  tall  I 

She  always  had  a  passion 
For  wearing  frills  around  her  neck, 

In  just  the  daisies'  fashion. 

And  buttercups  must  always  be 
The  same  old  tiresome  color; 

While  daisies  dress  in  gold  and  white, 
Although  their  gold  is  duller. 

"  Dear  robin,"  said  the  sad  young  flower, 
"  Perhaps  you'd  not  mind  trying 

To  find  a  nice  white  frill  for  me, 
Some  day  when  you  are  flying  ? " 

"  You  silly  thing  ! "  the  robin  said, 
"  I  think  you  must  be  crazy : 

I'd  rather  be  my  honest  self, 
Than  any  made-up  daisy. 

ts  You're  nicer  in  your  own  bright  gown ; 

The  little  children  love  you  : 
Be  the  best  buttercup  you  can, 

And  think  no  flower  above  you. 

"  Though  swallows  leave  me  out  of  sights 
We'd  better  keep  our  places  : 

Perhaps  the  world  would  all  go  wrong 
With  one  too  many  daisies. 


THE   POSY   RING  195 

"  Look  bravely  up  into  the  sky, 

And  be  content  with  knowing 
That  God  wished  for  a  buttercup 

Just  here,  where  you  are  growing." 

Sarah  Orne  Jewett. 


The  Nightingale  and  the  Glowworm 

A  nightingale  that  all  day  long 
Had  cheered  the  village  with  his  song, 
Nor  yet  at  eve  his  note  suspended, 
Nor  yet  when  eventide  was  ended, 
Began  to  feel,  as  well  he  might, 
The  keen  demands  of  appetite ; 
When  looking  eagerly  around, 
He  spied  far  off,  upon  the  ground, 
A  something  shining  in  the  dark, 
And  knew  the  glowworm  by  his  spark; 
So,  stooping  down  from  hawthorn  top, 
He  thought  to  put  him  in  his  crop. 

The  worm,  aware  of  his  intent, 
Harangued  him  thus,  right  eloquent: 
"  Did  you  admire  my  lamp,"  quoth  he9 
"  As  much  as  I  your  minstrelsy, 
You  would  abhor  to  do  me  wrong, 
As  much  as  I  to  spoil  your  song : 


195  THE   POSY   RING 

For  'twas  the  self-same  Power  Divine 
Taught  you  to  sing,  and  me  to  shine ; 
That  you  with  music,  I  with  light, 
Might  beautify  and  cheer  the  night." 
The  songster  heard  this  short  oration, 
And  warbling  out  his  approbation, 
Released  him,  as  my  story  tells, 
And  found  a  supper  somewhere  else. 

William  Cowper, 

r 

Thanksgiving  Day 

Over  the  river  and  through  the  wood, 
To  grandfather's  house  we  go ; 
The  horse  knows  the  way 
To  carry  the  sleigh 
Through  the  white  and  drifted  snow, 
Over  the  river  and  through  the  wood — 
Oh,  how  the  wind  does  blow  I 
It  stings  the  toes 
And  bites  the  nose, 
As  over  the  ground  we  go. 

Over  the  river  and  through  the  wood, 
To  have  a  first-rate  play. 
Hear  the  bells  ring, 
"  Ting-a-ling-ding ! " 
Hurrah  for  Thanksgiving  Day ! 


THE  POSY  RING  197 

Over  the  river  and  through  the  wood 
Trot  fast,  my  dapple-gray ! 

Spring  over  the  ground, 

Like  a  hunting-hound ! 
For  this  is  Thanksgiving  Day. 

Over  the  river  and  through  the  wood, 
And  straight  through  the  barn- yard  gate. 
We  seem  to  go 
Extremely  slow,— 
It  is  so  hard  to  wait ! 

Over  the  river  and  through  the  wood — - 
Now  grandmother's  cap  I  spy  ! 
Hurrah  for  the  fun ! 
Is  the  pudding  done  ? 
Hurrah  for  the  pumpkin-pie  ? 

Lydia  Maria  Child. 

r 

A   Thanksgiving  Fable 

It  was  a  hungry  pussy  cat,  upon  Thanksgiving 
morn, 

And  she  watched  a  thankful  little  mouse,  that 
ate  an  ear  of  corn. 

"  If  I  ate  that  thankful  little  mouse,  how  thank- 
ful he  should  be, 

When  he  has  made  a  meal  himself,  to  make  a 
meal  for  me ! 


198  THE   POSY  KING 

"  Then  with  his  thanks  for  having  fed,  and  his 
thanks  for  feeding  me, 

With  all  Ms  thankfulness  inside,  how  thankful  I 
shaU  be ! " 

Thus  mused  the  hungry  pussy  cat,  upon  Thanks- 
giving Day; 

But  the  little  mouse  had  overheard  and  declined 
(with  thanks)  to  stay. 

Oliver  Herford. 


The  Magpie's  Nest 

A  Fable 

When  the  Arts  in  their  infancy  were, 

In  a  fable  of  old  'tis  express'd 
A  wise  magpie  constructed  that  rare 

Little  house  for  young  birds,  call'd  a  nest. 

This  was  talk'd  of  the  whole  country  round ; 

You  might  hear  it  on  every  bough  sung, 
"  Now  no  longer  upon  the  rough  ground 

Will  fond  mothers  brood  over  their  young: 

"  For  the  magpie  with  exquisite  skill 
Has  invented  a  moss-cover'd  cell 

Within  which  a  whole  family  will 
In  the  utmost  security  dwell." 


THE  POSY  RING  199 

To  her  mate  did  each  female  bird  say, 
"  Let  us  fly  to  the  magpie,  my  dear; 

If  she  will  but  teach  us  the  way, 
A  nest  we  will  build  us  up  here. 

*'  It's  a  thing  that's  close  arch'd  overhead, 
With  a  hole  made  to  creep  out  and  in; 

We,  my  bird,  might  make  just  a  bed 
If  we  only  knew  how  to  begin." 

•  ••••• 

To  the  magpie  soon  every  bird  went 

And  in  modest  terms  made  their  request, 

That  she  would  be  pleased  to  consent 
To  teach  them  to  build  up  a  nest. 

She  replied,  "  I  will  show  you  the  way, 

So  observe  everything  that  I  do : 
First  two  sticks  'cross  each  other  I  lay — -" 

"  To  be  sure,"  said  the  crow,  "  why  I  knew 

"  It  must  be  begun  with  two  sticks, 

And  I  thought  that  they  crossed  should  be." 

Said  the  pie,  "  Then  some  straw  and  moss  mix 
In  the  way  you  now  see  done  by  me. " 

"  O  yes,  certainly,"  said  the  jackdaw, 

"  That  must  follow,  of  course,  I  have  thought ; 

Though  I  never  before  building  saw, 
I  guess'd  that,  without  being  taught" 


200  THE  POSY  RING 

u  More  moss,  straw,  and  feathers,  I  place 
In  this  manner,"  continued  the  pie. 

"  Yes,  no  doubt,  madam,  that  is  the  case; 
Though  no  builder  myself,  so  thought  L" 


Whatever  she  taught  them  beside, 
In  his  turn  every  bird  of  them  said, 

Though  the  nest-making  art  he  ne'er  tried 
He  had  just  such  a  thought  in  his  head. 

Still  the  pie  went  on  showing  her  art, 
Till  a  nest  she  had  built  up  half-way ; 

She  no  more  of  her  skill  would  impart, 
But  in  her  anger  went  fluttering  away. 

And  this  speech  in  their  hearing  she  made, 
As  she  perch'd  o  er  their  heads  on  a  tree  8 

"  If  ye  all  were  well  skill'd  in  my  trade, 
Pray,  why  came  ye  to  learn  it  of  me  ? " 

When  a  scholar  is  willing  to  Jeara, 

He  with  silent  submission  should  heart 

Too  late  they  their  folly  discern, 
The  effect  to  this  day  does  appear 

For  whenever  a  pie's  nest  you  see, 
Her  charming  warm  canopy  view, 


THE   POSY   RING  201 

All  birds'  nests  but  hers  seem  to  be 
A  magpie's  nest  just  cut  in  two. 

Charles  and  Mary  Lamb. 


The  Owl  and  the  Pussy-Cat 

The  Owl  and  the  Pussy-Cat  went  to  sea 

In  a  beautiful  pea-green  boat; 
They  took  some  honey,  and  plenty  of  money 

Wrapped  up  in  a  five-  pound  note. 
The  Owl  looked  up  to  the  moon  above9 

And  sang  to  a  small  guitar, 
"  O  lovely  Pussy  !  O  Pussy,  my  love, 

What  a  beautiful  Pussy  you  are,-— 
You  are, 

What  a  beautiful  Pussy  you  are ! n 

Pussy  said  to  the  Owl,  "  You  elegant  fowl ! 

How  wonderful  sweet  you  sing! 
O  let  us  be  married, —too  long  we  have  tarried,- 

But  what  shall  we  do  for  a  ring  ? " 
They  sailed  away  for  a  year  and  a  day 

To  the  land  where  the  Bong  tree  grows 
And  there  in  a  wood,  a  piggy- wig  stood 


202  THE  POSY  RING 

With  a  ring  at  the  end  of  his  nose, — 

His  nose, 
With  a  ring  at  the  end  of  his  nose. 

w  Dear  Pig,  are  you  willing  to  sell  for  one  shilling 

Your  ring?  "     Said  the  piggy,  "  I  will." 
So  they  took  it  away,  and  were  married  next  da) 

By  the  turkey  who  lives  on  the  hill. 
They  dined  upon  mince  and  slices  of  quince, 

Which  they  ate  with  a  runcible  spoon, 
And  hand  in  hand  on  the  edge  of  the  sand 

They  danced  by  the  light  of  the  moon, — 
The  moon, 

They  danced  by  the  light  of  the  moon. 

Edward  Lear. 


A  Lobster  Quadrille 
"  Will  you  walk  a  little  faster  ? "  said  a  whiting 

to  a  snail, 
"  There's  a  porpoise  close   behind  us,  and  he's 

treading  on  my  tail. 
See  how  eagerly  the  lobsters  and  the  turtles  all 

advance  ! 
They  are  waiting  on  the  shingle — will  you  come 

and  join  the  dance  ? 
Will  you,  won't  you,  will  you,  won't  you,  will 

you  join  the  dance  ? 


THE  POSY   RING  203 

Will  you,  won't  you,  will  you,  won't  you,  won't 
you  join  the  dance  ? 

"You  can  really  have  no  notion  how  delight- 
ful it  will  be 

When  they  take  us  up  and  throw  us,  with  the 
lobsters,  out  to  sea !  " 

But  the  snail  replied,  "  Too  far,  too  far ! "  and 
gave  a  look  askance — 

Said  he  thanked  the  whiting  kindly,  but  he 
would  not  join  the  dance. 

Would  not,  could  not,  would  not,  could  not, 
would  not  join  the  dance, 

Would  not,  could  not,  would  not,  could  not, 
could  not  join  the  dance. 

"  What  matters  it  how  far  we  go  ?  "  his  scaly 

friend  replied, 
"  There  is  another  shore,  you  know,  upon  the 

other  side. 
The  further  off  from  England  the  nearer  is  to 

France — 
Then  turn  not  pale,  beloved  snail,  but  come  and 

join  the  dance. 
Will  you,  won't  you,  will  you,  won't  you,  will 

you  join  the  dance  ? 
Will  you,  won't  you,  will  you,  won't  you,  won't 

you  join  the  dance  ? " 

Lewis  Carroll. 


204  THE  POSY  RING 

The  Fairies'  Shopping 

Where  do  you  think  the  Fairies  go 
To  buy  their  blankets  ere  the  snow  ? 

When  Autumn  comes,  with  frosty  days 
The  sorry  shivering  little  Fays 

Begin  to  think  it's  time  to  creep 
Down  to  their  caves  for  Winter  sleep. 

But  first  they  come  from  far  and  near 
To  buy,  where  shops  are  not  too  dear. 

(The  wind  and  frost  bring  prices  down, 
So  Fall's  their  time  to  come  to  town  !) 

Where  on  the  hill-side  rough  and  steep 
Browse  all  day  long  the  cows  and  sheep. 

The  mullein's  yellow  candles  burn 
Over  the  heads  of  dry  sweet  fern: 

All  summer  long  the  mullein  weaves 
His  soft  and  thick  and  woolly  leaves. 

Warmer  blankets  were  never  seen 
Than  these  broad  leaves  of  fuzzy  green— 

(The  cost  of  each  is  but  a  shekel 
Made  from  the  gold  of  honeysuckle  I) 


THE   POSY   HING  205 

To  buy  their  sheets  and  fine  white  lace 
(With  which  to  trim  a  pillow-case), 

They  only  have  to  go  next  door, 

Where  stands  a  sleek  brown  spider's  store. 

And  there  they  find  the  misty  threads 
Heady  to  cut  into  sheets  and  spreads ; 

Then  for  a  pillow,  pluck  with  care 
Some  soft- winged  seeds  as  light  as  air; 

Just  what  they  want  the  thistle  brings^ 
But  thistles  are  such  surly  things — ■ 

And  so,  though  it  is  somewhat  high, 
The  clematis  the  Fairies  buy. 

The  only  bedsteads  that  they  need 
Are  silky  pods  of  ripe  milk-weed, 

With  hangings  of  the  dearest  things — ■ 
Autumn  leaves,  or  butterflies'  wings  ! 

And  dandelions'  fuzzy  heads 

They  use  to  stuff  their  feather  beds ; 

And  yellow  snapdragons  supply 
The  nightcaps  that  the  Fairies  buy, 

To  which  some  blades  of  grass  they  pin» 
And  tie  them  'neath  each  little  chin- 
Then,  shopping  done,  the  Fairies  cry, 
"  Our  Summer's  gone  I  oh  sweet,  good-bye  I  * 


206  THE   POSY  RING 

And  sadly  to  their  caves  they  go, 
To  hide  away  from  Winter's  snow — 

And  then,  though  winds  and  storms  may  beat, 
The  Fairies'  sleep  is  warm  and  sweet ! 

Margaret  Deland. 

r 

Fable 
The  mountain  and  the  squirrel 
Had  a  quarrel, 

And  the  former  called  the  latter  "  Little  Prig 
Bun  replied : 

"  You  are  doubtless  very  big ; 
But  all  sorts  of  things  and  weather 
Must  be  taken  in  together 
To  make  up  a  year 
And  a  sphere ; 
And  I  think  it  no  disgrace 
To  occupy  my  place. 
If  I'm  not  so  large  as  you, 
You  are  not  so  small  as  I? 
And  not  half  so  spry. 
I'll  not  deny  you  make 
A  very  pretty  squirrel  track ; 
Talents  differ;  all  is  well  and  wisely  put; 
If  1  cannot  carry  forests  on  my  back 
Neither  can  you  crack  a  nut ! " 

Ralph  Waldo  Emersoa 


THE   POSY   RING  207 

A  Midsummer  Song 

Oh,  father's  gone  to  market- town :   he  was  up 

before  the  day, 
And  Jamie's  after  robins,  and  the  man  is  making 

hay, 
And  whistling  down  the  hollow  goes  the  boy 

that  minds  the  mill, 
While  mother  from  the  kitchen- door  is  calling 

with  a  will, 
rt  Polly! — Polly! — The  cows  are  in  the  corn! 
Oh,  where's  Polly? " 

From  all  the  misty  morning  air  there  comes  a 

summer  sound, 
A  murmur  as  of  waters,  from  skies  and  trees  and 

ground. 
The  birds  they  sing  upon  the  wing,  the  pigeons 

bill  and  coo ; 
And  over  hill  and  hollow  rings  again  the  loud 

halloo : 
"  Polly ! — Polly ! — The  cows  are  in  the  corn ! 
Oh,  where's  Polly?'* 

Above  the  trees,  the  honey-bees  swarm  by  with 

buzz  and  boom, 
And  in  the  field  and  garden  a  thousand  blossoms 

bloom. 


208  THE   POSY  KING 

Within  the  farmer's  meadow  a  brown-eyed  daisy 

blows, 
And  down  at  the  edge  of  the  hollow  a  red  and 
thorny  rose. 
But  Polly  ! — Polly  ! — The  cows  are  in  the 
corn! 

Oh,  where's  Polly  ? 

How  strange  at  such  a  time  of  day  the  mill 

should  stop  its  clatter! 
The  farmer's  wife  is  listening  now,  and  wonders 

what's  the  matter. 
Oh,  wild  the  birds  are  singing  in  the  wood  and 

on  the  hill, 
While  whistling  up  the  hollow  goes  the  boy  that 
minds  the  mill. 
But  Polly ! — Polly  ! — The  cows  are  in  the 
corn ! 

Oh,  where's  Polly ! 

Richard  Watson  Gilder. 


THE   POSY   RING  209 

The  Fairies  of  the  Caldon-Low 

"  And  where  have  you  been,  my  Mary, 
And  where  have  you  been  from  me  ?  " 

"  I've  been  to  the  top  of  the  Caldon-Low, 
The  midsummer  night  to  see  !  " 

"  And  what  did  you  see,  my  Mary, 

All  up  on  the  Caldon-Low?" 
"  I  saw  the  blithe  sunshine  come  down, 

And  I  saw  the  merry  winds  blow." 

"  And  what  did  you  hear,  my  Mary, 

All  up  on  the  Caldon  Hill? " 
"  I  heard  the  drops  of  water  made, 

And  I  heard  the  corn-ears  nil." 

"  Oh,  tell  me  all,  my  Mary — ■ 

All,  all  that  ever  you  know; 
For  you  must  have  seen  the  fairies 

Last  night  on  the  Caldon-Low." 

"  Then  take  me  on  your  knee,  mother, 

And  listen,  mother  of  mine  : 
A  hundred  fairies  danced  last  night, 

And  the  harpers  they  were  nine  ; 

w  And  merry  v/as  the  glee  of  the  harp-strings, 
And  their  dancing  feet  so  small ; 


210  THE  POSY  RING 

But  oh !  the  sound  of  their  talking 
Was  merrier  far  than  all !  " 

"  And  what  were  the  words,  my  Mary, 
That  you  did  hear  them  say? " 

"  I'll  tell  you  all,  my  mother, 
But  let  me  have  my  way. 

"  And  some  they  played  with  the  water 

And  rolled  it  down  the  hill; 
'  And  this,'  they  said,  '  shall  speedily  turn 

The  poor  old  miller's  mill; 

"  *  For  there  has  been  no  water 

Ever  since  the  first  of  May; 
And  a  busy  man  shall  the  miller  be 

By  the  dawning  of  the  day ! 

"  *  Oh,  the  miller,  how  he  will  laugh, 
When  he  sees  the  mill-dam  rise  ! 

The  jolly  old  miller,  how  he  will  laugh, 
Till  the  tears  fill  both  his  eyes  ! ' 

"  And  some  they  seized  the  little  winds, 

That  sounded  over  the  hill, 
And  each  put  a  horn  into  his  mouth, 

And  blew  so  sharp  and  shrill ! 

"  *  And  there,'  said  they,  '  the  merry  winds  go, 
Away  from  every  horn; 


THE   POSY   RING  211 

And  those  shall  clear  the  mildew  dank 
From  the  blind  old  widow's  corn : 

" '  Oh,  the  poor  blind  widow — 

Though  she  has  been  blind  so  long, 

She'll  be  merry  enough  when  tlu  mildew's  gone, 
And  the  corn  stands  stiff  an  J  strong  ! ' 

•'  And  some  they  brought  the  brown  linseed, 
And  flung  it  down  from  the  x  ow  : 

'  And  this,'  said  they, '  by  the  sunrise, 
In  the  weaver's  croi ':  shall  grow ! 

"' '  Oh,  the  poor  lame  weaver  ! 

How  will  he  laugh  outright 
When  he  sees  his  dwindling  flax-field 

All  full  of  flowers  by  night ! ' 

r  And  then  upspoke  a  brownie, 

With  a  long  beard  on  his  chin ; 
*  I  have  spun  up  all  the  tow,'  said  he, 

'And  I  want  some  more  to  spin. 

" '  I've  spun  a  piece  of  hempen  cloth, 

And  I  want  to  spin  another — 
A  little  sheet  for  Mary's  bed 

And  an  apron  for  her  mother.' 

w  And  with  that  I  could  not  help  but  laugh, 
And  I  laughed  out  loud  and  free; 


212  THE   POSY  RING 

And  then  on  the  top  of  the  Caldon-Low, 
There  was  no  one  left  but  me. 

*■  And  all  on  the  top  of  the  Caldon-Low 
The  mists  were  cold  and  gray, 

And  nothing  I  saw  but  the  mossy  stones 
That  round  about  me  lay. 

"  But,  as  I  came  down  from  the  hill-top, 

I  heard,  afar  below, 
How  busy  the  jolly  old  miller  was, 

And  how  merry  the  wheel  did  go  ! 

"  And  I  peeped  into  the  widow's  field, 
And,  sure  enough,  was  seen 

The  yellow  ears  of  the  mildewed  corn 
All  standing  stiff  and  green ! 

"  And  down  by  the  weaver's  croft  I  stole, 
To  see  if  the  flax  were  high  ; 

But  I  saw  the  weaver  at  his  gate 
With  the  good  news  in  his  eye ! 

"  Now,  this  is  all  that  I  heard,  mother, 

And  all  that  I  did  see; 
So,  prithee,  make  my  bed,  mother, 

For  I'm  tired  as  I  can  be !  " 

Mary  Howitt 


THE   POSY   RING  213 

Tiie  Elf  and  the  Dormouse 

Under  a  toadstool 

Crept  a  wee  Elf, 
Out  of  the  rain, 

To  shelter  himself. 

Under  the  toadstool 

Sound  asleep, 
Sat  a  big  Dormouse 

All  in  a  heap. 

Trembled  the  wee  Elf, 

Frightened,  and  yet 
Fearing  to  fly  away 

Lest  he  get  wet. 

To  the  next  shelter — 

Maybe  a  mile ! 
Sudden  the  wee  Elf 

Smiled  a  wee  smile, 

Tugged  till  the  toadstool 

Toppled  in  two. 
Holding  it  over  him, 

Gayly  he  flew. 

Soon  he  was  safe  home, 
Dry  as  could  be, 


214,  THE   POSY   RING 

Soon  woke  the  Dormouse — 
"  Good  gracious  me  ! 

"  Where  is  my  toadstool  ? " 

Loud  he  lamented. 
— And  that's  how  umbrellas 

First  were  invented. 

Oliver  Herford, 

r 

Meg  Merrilies 

Old  Meg  she  was  a  gipsy, 

And  lived  upon  the  moors ; 
Her  bed  it  was  the  brown  heath  turf, 

And  her  house  was  out  of  doors. 
Her  apples  were  swart  blackberries, 

Her  currants  pods  o'  broom; 
Her  wine  was  dew  of  the  wild  white  rose, 

Her  book  a  churchyard  tomb. 

Her  brothers  were  the  craggy  hills, 

Her  sisters  larchen-trees ; 
Alone  with  her  great  family 

She  lived  as  she  did  please. 
No  breakfast  had  she  many  a  morn. 

No  dinner  many  a  noon, 
And  'stead  of  supper  she  would  stare 

Full  hard  against  the  moon, 


THE   POSY   RING  215 

But  every  morn  of  woodbine  fresh     * 

She  made  her  garlanding, 
And  every  night  the  dark  glen  yew 

She  wore;  and  she  would  sing, 
And  with  her  fingers  old  and  brown 

She  plaited  mats  of  rushes, 
And  gave  them  to  the  cottagers 

She  met  among  the  bushes. 

Old  Meg  was  brave  as  Margaret  Queen, 

And  tall  as  Amazon ; 
An  old  red  blanket  cloak  she  wore, 

A  ship-hat  had  she  on; 
God  rest  her  aged  bones  somewhere! 

She  died  full  long  agone ! 

John  Keats. 


Romance 

I  saw  a  ship  a-sailing, 

A-sailing  on  the  sea ; 
Her  masts  were  of  the  shining  gold. 

Her  deck  of  ivory  ; 
And  sails  of  silk,  as  soft  as  milk, 

And  silvern  shrouds  had  she. 

And  round  about  her  sailing, 
The  sea  was  sparkling  white, 


216  THE  POSY  RING 

The"  waves  all  clapped  their  hands  and  sang 

To  see  so  fair  a  sight. 
They  kissed  her  twice,  they  kissed  her  thrice, 

And  murmured  with  delight. 

Then  came  the  gallant  captain, 

And  stood  upon  the  deck ; 
In  velvet  coat,  and  ruffles  white, 

Without  a  spot  or  speck ; 
And  diamond  rings,  and  triple  strings 

Of  pearls  around  his  neck. 

And  four-and-twenty  sailors 

Were  round  him  bowing  low ; 
On  every  jacket  three  times  three 

Gold  buttons  in  a  row  ; 
And  cutlasses  down  to  their  knees; 

They  made  a  goodly  show. 

And  then  the  ship  went  sailing, 

A-sailing  o'er  the  sea  ; 
She  dived  beyond  the  setting  sun, 

But  never  back  came  she, 
For  she  found  the  lands  of  the  golden  sands. 

Where  the  pearls  and  diamonds  be. 

Gabriel  Setoun* 


THE  POSY  RING  217 

The  Cow- Boys  Song 

"  Mooly  cow,  mooly  cow,  home  from  the  wood 
They  sent  me  to  fetch  you  as  fast  as  I  could. 
The  sun  has  gone  down :  it  is  time  to  go  home. 
Mooly  cow,  mooly  cow,  why  don't  you  come? 
Your  udders  are  full,  and  the  milkmaid  is  there, 
And  the  children  are  waiting  their  supper  to 

share. 
I  have  let  the  long  bars  down, — why  don't  you 

pass  through  ?  " 
The  mooly  cow  only  said,  "  Moo-o-o  1 " 

"  Mooly  cow,  mooly  cow,  have  you  not  been 
Regaling  all  day  where  the  pastures  are  green? 
No  doubt  it  was  pleasant,  dear  mooly,  to  see 
The  clear  running  brook  and  the  wide-spreading 

tree, 
The  clover  to  crop  and  the  streamlet  to  wade, 
To  drink  the  cool  water  and  lie  in  the  shade ; 
But  now  it  is  night :  they  are  waiting  for  you." 
The  mooly  cow  only  said,  "  Moo-o-o  1 " 

"  Mooly  cow,  mooly  cow,  where  do  you  go, 
When  all  the  green  pastures  are  covered  with 

snow? 
You  go  to  the  barn  and  we  feed  you  with  hay, 
And  the  maid  goes  to  milk  you  there,  every  day; 


218  THE  POSY  RING 

She  speaks  to  you  kindly  and  sits  by  your  side, 
She  pats  you,  she  loves  you,  she  strokes  your 

sleek  hide: 
Then  come  along  home,  pretty  mooly  cow,  do/ 
But  the  mooly  cow  only  said,  "  Moo-o-o  ! " 

"  Mooly  cow,  mooly  cow,  whisking  your  tail, 
The  milkmaid  is  waiting,  I  say,  with  her  pail ; 
She  tucks  up  her  petticoats,  tidy  and  neat, 
And  places  the  three-legged  stool  for  her  seat : — ■ 
What  can  you  be  staring  at,  mooly?    You  know 
That  we  ought  to  have  gone  home  an  hour  ago. 
How  dark  it  is  growing !     O,  what  shall  I  do  ? " 
The  mooly  cow  only  said,  "  Moo-o-o  !  " 

Anna  M.  Wells. 


BED  TIME* 

r 

When  the  golden  day  is  done, 

Through  the  closing  portal, 
Child  and  garden,  flower  and  sun, 

Vanish  all  things  mortal. 

Robert  Louis  Stevenson, 


*  From  "  A  Child' 's  Garden  of  Verses,"  by  Robert  Louis  Stevenson. 
By  permission  of  Charles  Scribner's  Sons. 


B  E  D  -  T  I  M  E 

r 

Auld  Daddy  Darkness 

Auld  Daddy  Darkness  creeps  frae  his  hole, 
Black  as  a  blackamoor,  blin'  as  a  mole  : 
Stir  the  fire  till  it  lowes,  let  the  bairnie  sit, 
Auld  Daddy  Darkness  is  no  wantit  yet. 

See  him  in  the  corners  hidin'  frae  the  licht, 
See  him  at  the  window  gloomin'  at  the  nicht; 
Turn  up  the  gas  licht,  close  the  shutters  a', 
An'  Auld  Daddy  Darkness  will  flee  far  awa'. 

Awa'  to  hide  the  birdie  within  its  cosy  nest, 
Awa'  to  lap  the  wee  flooers  on  their  mither's 

breast, 
Awa'  to  loosen  Gaffer  Toil  frae  his  daily  ca', 
For  Auld  Daddy  Darkness  is  kindly  to  a'. 

He  comes  when  we're  weary  to  wean's  frae  oor 

waes, 
He  comes  when  the  bairnies  are  getting  aff  their 

claes ; 
To  cover  them  sae  cosy,  an'  bring  bonnie  dreams, 
So  Auld  Daddy  Darkness  is  better  than  he  seems, 


222  THE   POSY   RING 

Steek  yer  een,  my  wee  tot,  ye'll  see  Daddy  then ; 
He's  in  below  the  bed  claes,  to  cuddle  ye  he's 

fain; 
Noo  nestle  in  his  bosie,  sleep  and  dream  yer  fill, 
Till  Wee  Davie  Daylicht  comes  keekin'  owre 

thehilL 

James  Ferguson. 


Wynken,  Blynken,  and  Nod* 

Wynken,  Blynken,  and  Nod  one  night 

Sailed  off  in  a  wooden  shoe — 
Sailed  on  a  river  of  crystal  light, 

Into  a  sea  of  dew. 
"  Where  are  you  going,  and  what  do  you  wish  ?  * 

The  old  moon  asked  the  three. 
"  We  have  come  to  fish  for  the  herring  fish 
That  live  in  this  beautiful  sea ; 
Nets  of  silver  and  gold  have  we  1 " 
Said  Wynken, 
Blynken, 
And  Nod. 

The  old  moon  laughed  and  sang  a  song, 
As  they  rocked  in  the  wooden  shoe, 

And  the  wind  that  sped  them  all  night  long 
Ruffled  the  waves  of  dew. 

*  From  "  With  Trumpet  and  Brum,'"''  by  Eugene  Field.     Copyright, 
1892,  by  Charles  Scribnerg  Sons. 


THE   POSY   RING  223 

The  little  stars  were  the  herring  fish 
That  lived  in  that  beautiful  sea — 
"  Now  cast  your  nets  wherever  you  wish — 
Never  afeard  are  we  "  ; 
So  cried  the  stars  to  the  fishermen  three  S 
Wynken, 
Blynken, 
And  Nod. 

All  night  long  their  nets  they  threw 

To  the  stars  in  the  twinkling  foam — 
Then   down  from  the  skies  came  the  wooden 
shoe, 
Bringing  the  fishermen  home ; 
'Twas  all  so  pretty  a  sail  it  seemed 

As  if  it  could  not  be, 
And  some  folks  thought  'twas  a  dream  they'd 
dreamed 
Of  sailing  that  beautiful  sea — 
But  I  shall  name  you  the  fishermen  three : 
Wynken, 
Blynken, 
And  Nod. 

Wynken  and  Blynken  are  two  little  eyes, 

And  Nod  is  a  little  head, 
And  the  wooden  3hoe  that  sailed  the  skies 

Is  a  wee  one's  trundle-bed. 


224  THE   POSY   RING 

So  shut  your  eyes  while  mother  sings 

Of  wonderful  sights  that  be, 
And  you  shall  see  the  beautiful  things 
As  you  rock  in  the  misty  sea, 
Where  the  old  shoe  rocked  the  fishermen  threes 
Wynken, 
Blynken, 
And  Nod. 

Eugene  Field, 


Rockaby,  Lullaby* 
Rockaby,  lullaby,  bees  on  the  clover! — ■ 
Crooning  so  drowsily,  crying  so  low — 
Rockaby,  lullaby,  dear  little  rover ! 
Down  into  wonderland — 
Down  to  the  under-land — 
Go,  oh  go  ! 
Down  into  wonderland  go ! 

Rockaby,  lullaby,  rain  on  the  clover ! 
Tears  on  the  eyelids  that  struggle  and  weep ! 
Rockaby,  lullaby — bending  it  over ! 

Down  on  the  mother  world, 

Down  on  the  other  world  ! 
Sleep,  oh  sleep ! 
Down  on  the  mother- world  sleep  ! 

*From  "  The  Poetical  Works  of  J.  G.  Holland:'  Copyright,  1881,  by 
Charles  Serihners  Sons. 


THE   POSY  RING  225 

Rockaby,  lullaby,  dew  on  the  clover  ! 
Dew  on  the  eyes  that  will  sparkle  at  dawn  I 
Rockaby,  lullaby,  dear  little  rover ! 
Into  the  stilly  world  ! 
Into  the  lily  world, 

Gone  !  oh  gone  ! 
Into  the  lily  world,  gone  ! 

Josiah  Gilbert  Holland. 


Sleep,  My  Treasure 

Sleep,  sleep,  my  treasure, 

The  long  day's  pleasure 
Has  tired  the  birds,  to  their  nests  they  creep ; 

The  garden  still  is 

Alight  with  lilies, 
But  all  the  daisies  are  fast  asleep. 

Sleep,  sleep,  my  darling, 

Dawn  wakes  the  starling, 
The  sparrow  stirs  when  he  sees  day  break ; 

But  all  the  meadow 

Is  wrapped  in  shadow, 
And  you  must  sleep  till  the  daisies  wake ! 

E.  Nesbit 


226  THE   POSY   RING 

Lullaby  of  an  Infant  Chief 

Oh,  hush  thee,  my  babie,  thy  sire  was  a  knight, 
Thy  mother  a  lady,  both  lovely  and  bright ; 
The  woods  and  the  glens  from  the  tower  which 

we  see, 
They  all  are  belonging,  dear  babie,  to  thee. 

Oh,  fear  not  the  bugle,  though  loudly  it  blows, 
It  calls  but  the  warders  that  guard  thy  repose : 
Their  bows  would  be  bended,  their  blades  would 

be  red, 
Ere  the  step  of  a  foeman  draws  near  to  thy  bed. 

Oh,  hush  thee,  my  babie,  the  time  will  soon  come, 
When  thy  sleep  shall  be  broken  by  trumpet  and 

drum  ; 
Then  hush  thee,  my  darling,  take  rest  while  you 

may, 
For  strife  comes  with  manhood,  and  waking  with 

day. 

Sir  Walter  Scott. 


THE   POSY   RING  227 

Sweet  and  Low 

Sweet  and  low,  sweet  and  low, 

Wind  of  the  western  sea, 
Low,  low,  breathe  and  blow, 

Wind  of  the  western  sea ! 
Over  the  rolling  waters  go, 
Come  from  the  dying  moon,  and  blow, 

Blow  him  again  to  me  : 
While  my  little  one,  while  my  pretty  one,  sleeps. 

Sleep  and  rest,  sleep  and  rest, 

Father  will  come  to  thee  soon ; 
Rest,  rest,  on  mother's  breast, 

Father  will  come  to  thee  soon  ; 
Father  will  come  to  his  babe  in  ti '  nest, 
Silver  sails  all  out  of  the  west 

Under  the  silver  moon  : 
Sleep,  my  little  one,  sleep,  my  pretty  one,  sleep, 

Alfred,  Lord  Tennyson. 


228  THE  POSY   KING 

Old  Gaelic  Lullaby 

Hush  !  the  waves  are  rolling  in, 

White  with  foam,  white  with  foam ; 

Father  toils  amid  the  din  ; 
But  baby  sleeps  at  home. 

Hush  !  the  winds  roar  hoarse  and  deep, — 
On  they  come,  on  they  come  ! 

Brother  seeks  the  wandering  sheep  : 
But  baby  sleeps  at  home. 

Hush  !  the  rain  sweeps  o'er  the  knowes, 
Where  they  roam,  where  they  roam  ; 

Sister  goes  to  seek  the  cows  ; 
But  baby  sleeps  at  home. 


Unknown,, 


r 


TJie  Sandman 

The  rosy  clouds  float  overhead, 

The  sun  is  going  down  ; 
And  now  the  sandman's  gentle  tread 

Comes  stealing  through  the  town. 
"White  sand,  white  sand,"  he  softly  criess 

And  as  he  shakes  his  hand, 
Straightway  there  lies  on  babies'  eyes 

His  gift  of  shining  sand. 


THE   POSY   RING  229 

Blue  eyes,  gray  eyes,  black  eyes,  and  brown, 
As  shuts  the  rose,  they  softly  close,  whe*i  he  goes 
through  the  town. 

From  sunny  beaches  far  away— 

Yes,  in  another  land — ■ 
He  gathers  up  at  break  of  day 

His  store  of  shining  sand. 
No  tempests  beat  that  shore  remote, 

No  ships  may  sail  that  way ; 
His  little  boat  alone  may  float 
Within  that  lovely  bay. 
Blue  eyes,  gray  eyes,  black  eyes,  and  brown, 
As  shuts  the  rose,  they  softly  close,  when  he  goes 
through  the  town. 

He  smiles  to  see  the  eyelids  close 

Above  the  happy  eyes; 
And  every  child  right  well  he  knows, — 

Oh,  he  is  very  wise  ! 
But  if,  as  he  goes  through  the  land, 

A  naughty  baby  cries, 
His  other  hand  takes  dull  gray  sand 
To  close  the  wakeful  eyes. 
Blue  eyes,  gray  eyes,  black  eyes,  and  brown, 
As  shuts  the  rose,  they  softly  close,  when  he  goes 
through  the  town. 


230  THE   POSY  RING 

So  when  you  hear  the  sandman's  song 

Sound  through  the  twilight  sweet, 
Be  sure  you  do  not  keep  him  long 

A-waiting  on  the  street. 
Lie  softly  down,  dear  little  head, 

Rest  quiet,  busy  hands, 
Till,  by  your  bed  his  good-night  said, 
He  strews  the  shining  sands. 
Blue  eyes,  gray  eyes,  black  eyes,  and  brown, 
As  shuts  the  rose,  they  softly  close,  when  he  goes 
through  the  town. 

Margaret  Vandegrift. 


The  Cottager  to  Her  Infant 

The  days  are  cold,  the  nights  are  long, 
The  north- wind  sings  a  doleful  song  ; 
Then  hush  again  upon  my  breast ; 
All  merry  things  are  now  at  rest, 
Save  thee,  my  pretty  Love ! 

The  kitten  sleeps  upon  the  hearth, 
The  crickets  long  have  ceased  their  mirth; 
There's  nothing  stirring  in  the  house 
Save  one  wee,  hungry  nibbling  mouse, 
Then  why  so  busy  thou  ? 


THE  POSY  RING  231 

Nay  !  start  not  at  that  sparkling  light, 
Tis  but  the  moon  that  shines  so  bright 
On  the  window-pane  bedropped  with  rain; 
There,  little  darling  !  sleep  again, 
And  wake  when  it  is  day. 

Dorothy  Wordsworth. 

A  Charm  to  Call  $l?ep 

Sleep,  Sleep,  come  to  me,  Sleep, 

Come  to  my  blankets  and  come  to  my  bed, 
Come  to  my  legs  and  my  arms  and  my  head, 

Over  me,  under  me,  into  me  creep. 

Sleep,  Sleep,  come  to  me,  Sleep, 

Blow  on  my  face  like  a  soft  breath  of  air, 
Lay  your  cool  hand  on  my  forehead  and  hair, 

Carry  me  down  through  the  dream-waters  deep 

Sleep,  Sleep,  come  to  me,  Sleep, 

Tell  me  the  secrets  that  you  alone  know, 
Show  me  the  wonders  none  other  can  show, 

Open  the  box  where  your  treasures  you  keep. 

Sleep,  Sleep,  come  to  me,  Sleep  : 

Softly  I  call  you  ;  as  soft  and  as  slow 
Come  to  me,  cuddle  me,  stay  with  me  so, 

Stay  till  the  dawn  is  beginning  to  peep. 

Henry  Johnston 


232  THE   POSY   RING 

Night 

The  snow  is  white,  the  wind  is  cold — 
The  king  has  sent  for  my  three-year-old. 
Bring  the  pony  and  shoe  him  fast 
With  silver  shoes  that  were  made  to  last. 
Bring  the  saddle  trimmed  with  gold; 
Put  foot  in  stirrup,  my  three-year-old; 
Jump  in  the  saddle,  away,  away ! 
And  hurry  back  by  the  break  of  day ; 
By  break  of  day,  through  dale  and  down, 
And  bring  me  the  news  from  Slumbertown. 

Mary  F.  Butts. 

r 

Bed-  Time 

Tis  bed-time ;  say  your  hymn,  and  bid  "  Good 

night, 
"  God  bless  mamma,  papa,  and  dear  ones  all." 
Your  half-shut  eyes  beneath  your  eye-lids  fall ; 
Another  minute  you  will  shut  them  quite. 
Yes,  I  will  carry  you,  put  out  the  light, 
And  tuck  you  up,  although  you  are  so  tall. 
What  will  you  give  me,  Sleepy  One,  and  call 
My  wages,  if  I  settle  you  all  right  ? 
I  laid  her  golden  curls  upon  my  arm, 
I  drew  her  little  feet  within  my  hand ; 


THE  POSY   KING  233 

Her  rosy  palms  were  joined  in  trustful  bliss, 
Her  heart  next  mine,  beat  gently,  soft  and  warm ; 
She  nestled  to  me,  and,  by  Love's  command, 
Paid  me  my  precious  wages, — Baby's  kiss. 

Lord  Rosslynu 


Nightfall  in  Dordrecht* 

The  mill  goes  toiling  slowly  around 

With  steady  and  solemn  creak, 
And  my  little  one  hears  in  the  kindly  sound 

The  voice  of  the  old  mill  speak. 
While  round  and  round  those  big  white  wings 

Grimly  and  ghostlike  creep, 
My  little  one  hears  that  the  old  mill  sings : 

"  Sleep,  little  tulip,  sleep  ! " 

The  sails  are  reefed  and  the  nets  are  drawn, 

And,  over  his  pot  of  beer, 
The  fisher,  against  the  morrow's  dawn, 

Lustily  maketh  cheer ; 
He  mocks  at  the  winds  that  caper  along 

From  the  far-off  clamorous  deep — 
But  we — we  love  their  lullaby  song 

Of"  Sleep,  little  tulip,  sleep  i " 

*From  "  With  Trumpet  and  Brum,"  by  Eugene  Fidd.     Copyright, 
1892,  by  Charles  Scribner's  Sons. 


234  THE    POSY   RING 

Old  dog  Fritz  in  slumber  sound 

Groans  of  the  stony  mart — 
To-morrow  how  proudly  he'll  trot  you  round, 

Hitched  to  our  new  milk-cart ! 
And  you  shall  help  me  blanket  the  kine 

And  fold  the  gentle  sheep 
And  set  the  herring  a-soak  in  brine — 

But  now,  little  tulip,  sleep  ! 

A  Dream- One  comes  to  button  the  eyes 

That  wearily  droop  and  blink, 
While  the  old  mill  buffets  the  frowning  skies 

And  scolds  at  the  stars  that  wink; 
Over  your  face  the  misty  wings 

Of  that  beautiful  Dream-One  sweep, 
And  rocking  your  cradle  she  softly  sings  : 

"  Sleep,  little  tulip,  sleep ! " 

Eugene  Field, 


X 

FOR  SUNDAY'S  CHILD 

r 

Sunday's  child  is  full  of  grace. 

Old  Proverb 


FOR    SUNDAY'S    CHILD 

r    t 

All  Things  Bright  and  Beautiful 

All  things  bright  and  beautiful, 
All  creatures  great  and  small, 

AH  things  wise  and  wonderful, 
The  Lord  God  made  them  all. 

Each  little  flower  that  opens, 
Each  little  bird  that  sings, 

He  ma^e  their  glowing  colours., 
He  made  their  tiny  wings. 

The  rich  man  in  his  castle, 
The  poor  man  at  his  gate, 

God  made  them,  high  or  lowlys 
And  order'd  their  estate. 

The  purple- headed  mountain, 

The  river  running  by, 
The  sunset  and  the  morning, 

That  brightens  up  the  sky;— - 

The  cold  wind  in  the  winter, 
The  pleasant  summer  sun, 

237 


238  THE   POSY  RING 

The  ripe  fruits  in  the  garden, — 
He  made  them  every  one ; 

The  tall  trees  in  the  greenwood, 
The  meadows  where  we  play, 

The  rushes  by  the  water 
We  gather  every  day ; — 

He  gave  us  eyes  to  see  them, 

And  lips  that  we  might  tell- 
How  great  is  God  Almighty, 
Who  has  made  all  things  well. 

Cecil  Frances  Alexander 


r 


The  Still  Small  Voice 

Wee  Sandy  in  the  corner 

Sits  greeting  on  a  stool, 
And  sair  the  laddie  rues 

Playing  truant  frae  the  school; 
Then  ye'll  learn  frae  silly  Sandy, 

Wha's  gotten  sic  a  fright, 
To  do  naething  through  the  day 

That  may  gar  ye  greet  at  night, 

He  durstna  venture  hame  now, 
Nor  play,  though  e'er  so  fine* 


THE  POSY  RING  239 

And  ilka  ane  he  met  wf 

He  thought  them  sure  to  ken, 
And  started  at  ilk  whin  bush, 

Though  it  was  braid  daylight — « 
Sae  do  nothing  through  the  day 

That  may  gar  ye  greet  at  night. 

Wha  winna  be  advised 

Are  sure  to  rue  ere  lang ; 
And  muckle  pains  it  costs  them 

To  do  the  thing  that's  wrang, 
When  they  wi'  half  the  fash  o't 

Might  aye  be  in  the  right, 
And  do  naething  through  the  day 

That  would  gar  them  greet  at  night. 

What  fools  are  wilfu'  bairns, 

WTho  misbehave  frae  hame ! 
There's  something  in  the  breast  aye 

That  tells  them  they're  to  blame  ; 
And  then  when  comes  the  gloamin', 

They're  in  a  waefu'  plight ! 
Sae  do  naething  through  the  day 

That  may  gar  ye  greet  at  night. 

Alexander  Smart. 


24,0  THE  POSY  RING 

The  Camel's  Nose 

Once  in  his  shop  a  workman  wrought, 
With  languid  head  and  listless  thought, 
When,  through  the  open  window's  space, 
Behold,  a  camel  thrust  his  face  ! 
"  My  nose  is  cold, "  he  meekly  cried ; 
"  Oh,  let  me  warm  it  by  thy  side  1 " 

Since  no  denial  word  was  said, 

In  came  the  nose,  in  came  the  head : 

As  sure  as  sermon  follows  text, 

The  long  and  scraggy  neck  came  next; 

And  then,  as  falls  the  threatening  storm, 

In  leaped  the  whole  ungainly  form. 

Aghast  the  owner  gazed  around, 
And  on  the  rude  invader  frowned, 
Convinced,  as  closer  still  he  pressed, 
There  was  no  room  for  such  a  guest; 
Yet  more  astonished,  heard  him  say, 
"  If  thou  art  troubled,  go  away, 
For  in  this  place  I  choose  to  stay." 

O  youthful  hearts  to  gladness  born, 
Treat  not  this  Arab  lore  with  scorn ! 
To  evil  habits'  earliest  wile 
Lend  neither  ear,  nor  glance,  nor  smile. 


THE   POSY   RING  241 

Choke  the  dark  fountain  ere  it  flows, 
Nor  e'en  admit  the  camel's  nose  ! 

Lydia  H.  Sigourney, 

r 

A  Child's  Grace 
Some  hae  meat  and  canna  eat, 

And  some  wad  eat  that  want  it ; 
But  we  hae  meat  and  we  can  eat, 
And  sae  the  Lord  be  thankit. 

Robert  Burns. 

r 

A  Child 's  Thought  of  God 

They  say  that  God  lives  very  high  ! 

But  if  you  look  above  the  pines 
You  cannot  see  our  God.     And  why  ? 

And  if  you  dig  down  in  the  mines 
You  never  see  Him  in  the  gold, 
Though  from  Him  all  that's  glory  shines 

God  is  so  good,  He  wears  a  fold 

Of  heaven  and  earth  across  His  face — 
Like  secrets  kept,  for  love,  untold. 

But  still  I  feel  that  His  embrace 

Slides  down  by  thrills,  through  all  things  made, 
Through  sight  and  sound  of  every  place : 


242  THE   POSY   RING 

As  if  my  tender  mother  laid 

On  my  shut  lids,  her  kisses'  pressure, 
Half- waking  me  at  night ;  and  said 
"Who  kissed    you   through   the   dark,   dear 
guesser?" 

Elizabeth  Barrett  Browning. 


The  Lamb 

Little  lamb,  who  made  thee  ? 
Dost  thou  know  who  made  thee, 
Gave  thee  life  and  bade  thee  feed 
By  the  stream  and  o'er  the  mead; 
Gave  thee  clothing  of  delight, 
Softest  clothing,  woolly,  bright; 
Gave  thee  such  a  tender  voice, 
Making  all  the  vales  rejoice  ? 
Little  lamb,  who  made  thee  ? 
Dost  thou  know  who  made  thee  ? 

Little  lamb,  I'll  tell  thee ; 
Little  lamb,  I'll  tell  thee. 
He  is  called  by  thy  name, 
For  He  calls  himself  a  Lamb. 
He  is  meek  and  He  is  mild, 
He  became  a  little  child. 


THE   POSY   RING  243 

I  a  child  and  thou  a  lamb, 
We  are  called  by  His  name. 
Little  lamb,  God  bless  thee  1 
Little  lamb,  God  bless  thee  ! 

William  Blake. 

r 

Night  and  Day* 

When  I  run  about  all  day, 
When  I  kneel  at  night  to  pray, 
God  sees. 

When  I'm  dreaming  in  the  dark, 
When  I  lie  awake  and  hark, 
God  sees. 

Need  I  ever  know  a  fear  ? 
Night  and  day  my  Father's  near: — 
God  sees. 

Mary  Mapes  Dodge. 

*  From,  "  Rhymes  and  Jingles"  by  Mary  Mapes  Dodge.     By  permis' 
<skm  of  Charles  Scrihner's  Sons. 


244  THE  POSY  RING 

High  and  Low  * 

The  showers  fall  as  softly 
Upon  the  lowly  grass 

As  on  the  stately  roses 
That  tremble  as  they  pass. 

The  sunlight  shines  as  brightly 
On  fern-leaves  bent  and  torn 
|  As  on  the  golden  harvest, 
The  fields  of  waving  corn. 

The  wild  birds  sing  as  sweetly 
To  rugged,  jagged  pines, 

As  to  the  blossomed  orchards, 
And  to  the  cultured  vines. 


Dora  Read  Goodale, 


By  Cool  Siloarti's  Shady  Rill 

By  cool  Siloam's  shady  rill 

How  sweet  the  lily  grows  ! 
How  sweet  the  breath  beneath  the  hill 

Of  Sharon's  dewy  rose  ! 

Lo,  such  the  child  whose  early  feet 
The  paths  of  peace  have  trod ; 

*From  "Apple  Blossoms"  by  Dora  Bead  Goodale.     By  permission 
of  G.  P.  Putnam's  Sorw. 


THE   POSY  RING  245 

Whose  secret  heart,  with  influence  sweet, 
Is  upward  drawn  to  God. 
•         •••••• 

Reginald  Heber. 


Sheep  and  Lambs 

All  in  the  April  morning, 

April  airs  were  abroad ; 
The  sheep  with  their  little  lambs 

Pass'd  me  by  on  the  road. 

The  sheep  with  their  little  lambs 
Pass'd  me  by  on  the  road  ; 

All  in  an  April  evening 

I  thought  on  the  Lamb  of  God. 

The  lambs  were  weary,  and  crying 

With  a  weak  human  cry, 
I  thought  on  the  Lamb  of  God 

Going  meekly  to  die. 

Up  in  the  blue,  blue  mountains 
Dewy  pastures  are  sweet : 

Hest  for  the  little  bodies, 
Rest  for  the  little  feet. 


246  THE   POSY   RING 

All  in  the  April  evening, 

April  airs  were  abroad; 
I  saw  the  sheep  with  their  lambs, 

And  thought  on  the  Lamb  of  God. 
Katharine  Tynan  Hinkson. 

r 

To  His  Saviour \  a  C1iild>  A  Present  by  a  Child 

Go,  pretty  child,  and  bear  this  flower 
Unto  thy  little  Saviour; 
And  tell  him,  by  that  bud  now  blown.. 
He  is  the  Rose  of  Sharon  known. 
When  thou  hast  said  so,  stick  it  there 
Upon  his  bib  or  stomacher  ; 
And  tell  him,  for  good  hansel  too, 
That  thou  hast  brought  a  whistle  new, 
Made  of  a  clean  strait  oaten  reed, 
To  charm  his  cries  at  time  of  need. 
Tell  him,  for  coral  thou  hast  none, 
But  if  thou  hadst,  he  should  have  one; 
But  poor  thou  art,  and  known  to  be 
Even  as  moneyless  as  he. 
Lastly,  if  thou  canst  win  a  kiss 
From  those  mellifluous  lips  of  his; 
Then  never  take  a  second  on, 
To  spoil  the  first  impression. 

Robert  Herricfc. 


THE   POSY  RING  247 

What  Would  You  See? 

What  would  you  see  if  I  took  you  up 

To  my  little  nest  in  the  air  ? 
You  would  see  the  sky  like  a  clear  blue  cup 

Turned  upside  downwards  there. 

What  would  you  do  if  I  took  you  there 

To  my  little  nest  in  the  tree  ? 
My  child  with  cries  would  trouble  the  airP 

To  get  what  she  could  but  see. 

What  would  you  get  in  the  top  of  the  tree 

For  all  your  crying  and  grief? 
Not  a  star  would  you  clutch  of  all  you  see— 

You  could  only  gather  a  leaf. 

But  when  you  had  lost  your  greedy  grief. 

Content  to  see  from  afar, 
You  would  find  in  your  hand  a  withering  leaf, 

In  your  heart  a  shining  star. 

George  MacdonakL 


S48  THE  POSY  RING 

Corn-Fields 
When  on  the  breath  of  Autumn's  breezea 

From  pastures  dry  and  brown, 
Goes  floating,  like  an  idle  thought, 

The  fair,  white  thistle-down, — - 
Oh,  then  what  joy  to  walk  at  will 
Upon  the  golden  harvest-hill ! 

What  joy  in  dreaming  ease  to  lie  t 

Amid  a  field  new  shorn  ; 
And  see  all  round,  on  sunlit  slopes, 

The  piled-up  shocks  of  corn ; 
And  send  the  fancy  wandering  o  er 
All  pleasant  harvest-fields  of  yore  ! 

I  feel  the  day ;  I  see  the  field ; 

The  quivering  of  the  leaves  ; 
And  good  old  Jacob,  and  his  horse, — - 

Binding  the  yellow  sheaves  ! 
And  at  this  very  hour  I  seem 
To  be  with  Joseph  in  his  dream ! 

T  see  the  fields  of  Bethlehem, 

And  reapers  many  a  one 
Bending  unto  their  sickles'  stroke, 

And  Boaz  looking  on ; 
And  Ruth,  the  Moabitess  fair, 
Among  the  gleaners  stooping  there  I 


THE  POSY   RING  249 

Again,  I  see  a  little  child., 

His  mother's  sole  delight, — 
God's  living  gift  of  love  unto 

The  kind,  good  Shunamite; 
To  mortal  pangs  I  see  him  yield, 
And  the  lad  bear  him  from  the  field. 

The  sun-bathed  quiet  of  the  hills, 

The  fields  of  Galilee, 
That  eighteen  hundred  years  ago 

Were  full  of  corn,  I  see  ; 
And  the  dear  Saviour  take  his  way 
'Mid  ripe  ears  on  the  Sabbath-day. 

Oh  golden  fields  of  bending  corn, 

How  beautiful  they  seem  ! 
The  reaper-folk,  the  piled-up  sheaves. 

To  me  are  like  a  dream  ; 
The  sunshine,  and  the  very  air 
Seem  of  old  time,  and  take  me  there ! 

Mary  Howitt. 


250  THE   POSY  RING 

Little  Christel 

I 

Slowly  forth  from  the  village  church, — 

The  voice  of  the  choristers  hushed  overhead,- 

Came  little  Christel.     She  paused  in  the  porch, 
Pondering  what  the  preacher  had  said. 

Even  the  youngest,  humblest  child 

Something  may  do  to  please  the  Lord; 

*"  Now,  what,"  thought  she,  and  half-sadly  smiled, 
"  Can  I,  so  little  and  poor,  afford  ? — 

"Never,  never  a  day  should  pass, 

Without  some  kindness,  kindly  shown, 

The  preacher  said  " — Then  down  to  the  grass 
A  skylark  dropped,  like  a  brown- winged  stoned 

••  Well,  a  day  is  before  me  now  ; 

Yet,  what,"  thought  she,  "  can  I  do,  if  I  try? 
If  an  angel  of  God  would  show  me  how ! 

But  silly  am  I,  and  the  hours  they  fly." 

Then  the  lark  sprang  singing  up  from  the  sod, 
And  the  maiden  thought,  as  he  rose  to  the 
blue, 
■  He  says  he  will  carry  my  prayer  to  God ; 
But  who  would  have  thought  the  little  lark 
knew? " 


THE  POSY  RING  251 

II 

Now  she  entered  the  village  street, 
With  book  in  hand  and  face  demure, 

And  soon  she  came,  with  sober  feet, 
To  a  crying  babe  at  a  cottage  door. 

It  wept  at  a  windmill  that  would*  not  moves 
It  puffed  with  round  red  cheeks  in  vain, 

One  sail  stuck  fast  in  a  puzzling  groove, 
And  baby's  breath  could  not  stir  it  again. 

So  baby  beat  the  sail  and  cried, 

While  no  one  came  from  the  cottage  door; 
But  little  Christel  knelt  down  by  its  side, 

And  set  the  windmill  going  once  more. 

Then  babe  was  pleased,  and  the  little  girl 
Was  glad  when  she  heard  it  laugh  and  crow ; 

Thinking,  "  Happy  windmill,  that  has   but  to 
whirl, 
To  please  the  pretty  young  creature  so." 

Ill 

No  thought  of  herself  was  in  her  head, 

As  she  passed  out  at  the  end  of  the  street, 

And  came  to  a  rose-tree  tall  and  red. 

Drooping  and  faint  with  the  summer  heat. 


252  THE  POSY  RING 

She  ran  to  a  farook  that  was  flowing  by, 

She   made   of  her  two   hands  a  nice  round 
cup, 

And  washed  the  roots  of  the  rose-tree  high, 
Till  it  lifted  its  languid  blossoms  up. 

'*  O  happy  brook  ! "  thought  little  Christel, 
"You  have  done  some  good  this   summers 
day, 
You  have   made    the   flowers   look    fresh   and 
well!" 
Then  she  rose  and  went  on  her  way. 


William  Brighty  Rands. 


A  Child's  Prayer 

God  make  my  life  a  little  light, 
Within  the  world  to  glow — 

A  tiny  flame  that  burneth  bright, 
Wherever  I  may  go. 

God  make  my  life  a  little  flower, 
That  bringeth  joy  to  all, 

Content  to  bloom  in  native  bower, 
Although  its  place  be  small. 


THE   POSY   RING  253 

God  make  my  life  a  little  song, 

That  comforteth  the  sad, 
That  helpeth  others  to  be  strong. 

And  makes  the  singer  glad. 

M.  Eetham  Edwards. 


XI 

BELLS   OF   CHRISTMAS 
f       $ 

r 

Then  let  the  holly  red  be  hung, 
And  all  the  sweetest  carols  sung, 
Wliile  we  with  joy  remember  them — 
The  journey ers  to  Bethlehem. 

Frank  Dempster  Sherman, 


BELLS     OF    CHRISTMAS 


The  Adoration  of  the  IVise  Men 

Saw  you  never  in  the  twilight, 

When  the  sun  had  left  the  skies, 
Up  in  heaven  the  clear  stars  shining, 

Through  the  gloom  like  silver  eyes  ? 
So  of  old  the  wise  men  watching, 

Saw  a  little  stranger  star, 
And  they  knew  the  King  was  given, 

And  they  fbllow'd  it  from  far. 

Heard  you  never  of  the  story  > 

How  they  cross'd  the  desert  wild, 
Journey 'd  on  by  plain  and  mountain9 

Till  they  found  the  Holy  Child  ? 
How  they  open'd  all  their  treasure, 

Kneeling  to  that  Infant  King, 
Gave  the  gold  and  fragrant  incense. 

Gave  the  myrrh  in  offering  ? 

Know  ye  not  that  lowly  Baby 
Was  the  bright  and  morning  star. 

He  who  came  to  light  the  Gentiles, 
And  the  darken'd  isles  afar  ? 

257 


258  THE  POSY  RING 

And  we  too  may  seek  his  cradle, 

There  our  heart's  best  treasures  bring, 

Love,  and  Faith,  and  true  devotion, 
For  our  Saviour,  God,  and  King. 

Cecil  Frances  Alexander. 


Cradle  Hymn 

Hush,  my  dear,  lie  still  and  slumber; 

Holy  angels  guard  thy  bed  ; 
Heavenly  blessings  without  number 

Gently  falling  on  thy  head. 

Sleep,  my  babe,  thy  food  and  raiment. 

House  and  home,  thy  friends  provide  { 
All  without  thy  care,  or  payment, 

All  thy  wants  are  well  supplied. 

How  much  better  thou'rt  attended 
Than  the  Son  of  God  could  be, 

When  from  heaven  He  descended, 
And  became  a  child  like  thee ! 

Soft  and  easy  is  thy  cradle  ; 

Coarse  and  hard  thy  Saviour  lay. 
When  His  birthplace  was  a  stable, 

And  His  softest  bed  was  hay. 


THE   POSY   RING  259 

See  the  kindly  shepherds  round  him, 

Telling  wonders  from  the  sky ! 
When  they  sought  Him,  there  they  found  Him, 

With  his  Virgin -Mother  by. 

See  the  lovely  babe  a-dressing ; 

Lovely  infant,  how  He  smiled ! 
When  He  wept,  the  mother's  blessing 

Soothed  and  hushed  the  holy  child. 

Lo,  He  slumbers  in  His  manger, 

Where  the  honest  oxen  fed ; 
— Peace,  my  darling  !  here's  no  danger ! 

Here's  no  ox  a-near  thy  bed  1 

Mayst  thou  live  to  know  and  fear  Him, 

Trust  and  love  Him  ail  thy  days  ; 
Then  go  dwell  forever  near  Him, 

See  His  face,  and  sing  His  praise ! 

I  could  give  thee  thousand  kisses. 

Hoping  what  I  most  desire ; 
ISot  a  mother's  fondest  wishes 

Can  to  greater  joys  aspire. 

Isaac  Watts. 


260  THE   POSY   RING 

The  Christmas  Silence 

Hushed  are  the  pigeons  cooing  low 

On  dusty  rafters  of  the  loft ; 

And  mild- eyed  oxen,  breathing  soft, 
Sleep  on  the  fragrant  hay  below. 

Dim  shadows  in  the  corner  hide ; 

The  glimmering  lantern  s  rays  are  shed 
Where  one  young  lamb  just  lifts  his  head, 

Then  huddles  'gainst  his  mother's  side. 

Strange  silence  tingles  in  the  air; 
Through  the  half-open  door  a  bar 
Of  light  from  one  low-hanging  stai 

Touches  a  baby's  radiant  hair. 

No  sound :  the  mother,  kneeling,  lays 
Her  cheek  against  the  little  face. 
Oh  human  love  I    Oh  heavenly  grace  \ 

'Tis  yet  in  silence  that  she  prays  1 

Ages  of  silence  end  to-night ; 

Then  to  the  long  expectant  eartn 
Glad  angels  come  to  greet  His  birth 

In  burst  of  music,  love,  and  light ! 

Margaret  Deland. 


THE   POSY   RING  261 

An  Offertory 

Oh,  the  beauty  of  the  Christ  Child, 

The  gentleness,  the  grace, 

The  smiling,  loving  tenderness, 

The  infantile  embrace ! 
All  babyhood  he  holdeth, 
All  motherhood  enfoldeth — 

Yet  who  hath  seen  his  face  ? 

Oh,  the  nearness  of  the  Christ  Child, 
When,  for  a  sacred  space, 
He  nestles  in  our  very  homes — 
Light  of  the  human  race  ! 

We  know  him  and  we  love  him, 
No  man  to  us  need  prove  him — 
Yet  who  hath  seen  his  face  ? 

Mary  Mapes  Dodge. 


Christmas  Song 

Why  do  bells  for  Christmas  ring  ? 
Why  do  little  children  sing  ? 

Once  a  lovely,  shining  star, 
Seen  by  shepherds  from  afar, 
Gently  moved  until  its  light 
Made  a  manger- cradle  bright. 


262  THE   POSY   RING 

There  a  darling  baby  lay- 
Pillowed  soft  upon  the  hay. 
And  his  mother  sang  and  smiled, 
"This  is  Christ,  the  holy  child." 

So  the  bells  for  Christmas  ring, 
So  the  little  children  sing. 

Lydia  Avery  Coonley  Ward. 

r 

A   Visit  from  St.  Nicholas 

'Twas   the   night    before    Christmas,   when    all 

through  the  house 
Not  a  creature  was  stirring  not  even  a  mouse. 
The  stockings  were  hung  by  the  chimney  with 

care, 
In  hopes  that  St.  Nicholas  soon  would  be  there. 
The  children  were  nestled  all  snug  in  their  beds, 
While  visions  of  sugar-plums   danced  in  their 

heads ; 
And  mamma  in  her  kerchief,  and  I  in  my  cap, 
Had  just  settled  our  brains  for  a  long  winter's 

nap — 
When  out  on  the  lawn  there  arose  such  a  clatter 
I   sprang  from  my  bed   to  see  what  was  the 

matter. 
Away  to  the  window  I  flew  like  a  flash, 
Tore  open  the  shutter,  and  threw  up  the  sash. 


Ttm  POSY    RING  £63 

The  moon  on  the  breast  of  the  new-fallen  snow 
Gave  a  lustre  of  midday  to  objects  below ; 
When  what  to  my  wondering  eyes  should  appear 
But  a  miniature  sleigh  and  eight  tiny  reindeer, 
With  a  little  old  driver,  so  lively  and  quick, 
I  knew  in  a  moment  it  must  be  St.  Nick ! 
More  rapid  than  eagles  his  coursers  they  came, 
And  he  whistled  and  shouted  and  called  them 

by  name. 
"  Now,   Dasher !    now,    Dancer !   now,  Prance? 

and  Vixen ! 
On,  Comet !  on,  Cupid !  on,  Donder  and  Blitz- 

en! — 
To  the  top  of  the  porch,  to  the  top  of  the  wall, 
Now,  dash  away,  dash  away,  dash  away  all ! '' 
As  dry  leaves  that  before  the  wild  hurricane  fly. 
When  they  meet  with  an  obstacle  mount  to  the 

sky, 
So,  up  to  the  housetop  the  coursers  they  liew. 
With  a  sleigh  full  of  toys — and  St.  Nicholas,  toe. 
And  then,  in  a  twinkling,  I  heard  on  the  roof 
The  prancing  and  pawing  of  each  little  hooi. 
As  I  drew  in  my  head,  and  was  turning  around 
Down  the  chimney  St.   Nicholas  came  with  a 

bound : 
He  was  dressed  all  in  fur  from  his  head  to  his  foot, 
And  his  clothes  were  all  tarnished  with  ashes  and 

soot: 


26*  THE  POSY  KING  ' 

A  bundle  of  toys  he  had  flung  on  his  back, 
And  he  looked  like  a  pedler  just  opening  his 

pack. 
His  eyes,  how  they  twinkled !  his  dimples,  how 

merry ! 
His  cheeks  were  like  roses,  his  nose  like  a  cherry ; 
His   droll   little   mouth  was   drawn   up   like   a 

bow, 
And  the  beard  on  his  shin  was  as  white  as  the 

snow. 
The  stump  of  a  pipe  he  held  tight  in  his  teeth, 
And  the    smoke,  it   encircled   his  head  like  a 

wreath. 
He  had  a  broad  face  and  a  little  round  belly 
That  shook,  when  he  laughed,  like  a  bowl  full  of 

jelly. 

He  was  chubby  and  plump: — a  right  jolly  old 
elf: 

And  I  laughed  when  I  saw  him,  in  spite  of  my- 
self; 

A  wink  of  his  eye,  and  a  twist  of  his  head, 

Soon  gave  me  to  know  I  had  nothing  to  dread. 

He  spoke  not  a  word,  but  went  straight  to  his 
workj 

And  filled  all  the  stockings :  then  turned  with  a 
jerk, 

And  laying  his  finger  aside  of  his  nose, 

And  giving  a  nod,  up  the  chimney  he  rose. 


THE   POSY   RING  26« 

He  sprang  to  his   sleigh,  to   his   team  gave  a 
whistles 

And   away  they  all   flew  like  the   down  of  a 
thistle. 

But  I  heard  him  exclaim,  ere  they  drove  out  of 
sight, 

"Happy  Christmas  tc  all,  and  to  all  a  good- 
night I " 

Clement  C  Moort,, 


The  Christmas  Trees 

There's  a  stir  among  the  trees, 
There's  a  whisper  in  the  breeze., 
Little  ice-points  clash  and  clink. 
Little  needles  nod  and  wink, 
Sturdy  fir-trees  sway  and  sigh-^ 
"  Here  am  I !     Here  am  I ! " 

-'  All  the  summer  long  I  stood 

In  the  silence  of  the  woods* 

Tall  and  tapering  I  grew; 

What  might  happen  well  I  knew; 

For  one  day  a  little  bird 

Sang,  and  in  the  song  I  heard 

Many  things  quite  strange  to  me 

Of  Christmas  and  the  Christmas  tree. 


266  THE   POSY   RING 

"  When  the  sun  was  hid  from  sight 
In  the  darkness  of  the  night, 
When  the  wind  with  sudden  fret 
Pulled  at  my  green  coronet, 
Staunch  I  stood,  and  hid  my  fearss 
Weeping  silent  fragrant  tears, 
Praying  still  that  I  might  be 
Fitted  for  a  Christmas  tree. 

"  Now  here  we  stand 

On  every  hand ! 

In  us  a  hoard  of  summer  stored, 

Birds  have  flown  over  us, 

Blue  sky  has  covered  us, 

Soft  winds  have  sung  to  us. 

Blossoms  have  flung  to  us 

Measureless  sweetness, 

Now  in  completeness 

We  wait." 

Mary  F.  Bntta 


THE   POSY    RING  267 

A  Birthday  Gift 
*         •         •         •         t         • 

What  can  I  give  him, 
Poor  as  I  am  ? 
If  I  were  a  shepherd 
I  would  bring  a  lamb, 
If  I  were  a  wise  man 
I  would  do  my  part, — 
Yet  what  I  can  I  give  him, 
Give  my  heart. 

Christina  Rossetti. 

r 

A  Christmas  Lullaby 

Sleep,  baby,  sleep  !     The  Mother  sings : 
Heaven's  angels  kneel  and  fold  their  wings. 
Sleep,  baby,  sleep ! 

With  swathes  of  scented  hay  Thy  bed 
By  Mary's  hand  at  eve  was  spread. 

Sleep,  baby,  sleep ! 

At  midnight  came  the  shepherds,  they 
Whom  seraphs  wakened  by  the  way. 

Sleep,  baby,  sleep ! 


268  THE  POSY  RING 

And  three  kings  from  the  East  afar5 
Ere  dawn  came,  guided  by  the  star. 

Sleep,  baby,  sleep! 

They  brought  Thee  gifts  of  gold  and  gemss 
Pure  orient  pearls,  rich  diadems. 

Sleep,  baby,  sleep! 

But  Thou  who  liest  slumbering  there, 
Art  King  of  Kings,  earth,  ocean,  air. 

Sleep,  baby,  sleep ! 

Sleep,  baby,  sleep !    The  shepherds  sing : 
Through  heaven,  through  earth,  hosannas  ring, 
Sleep,  baby,  sleep ! 
John  Addington  Symonds. 


I"  Saw  Three  Ships 

I  saw  three  ships  come  sailing  in, 

On  Christmas  day,  on  Christmas  day; 

I  saw  three  ships  come  sailing  in, 
On  Christmas  day  in  the  morning. 

Pray  whither  sailed  those  ships  all  three 
On  Christmas  day,  on  Christmas  day  ? 

Pray  whither  sailed  those  ships  all  three 
On  Christmas  day  in  the  morning  ? 


THE   POSY   RING  269 

Oh,  they  sailed  into  Bethlehem 

On  Christmas  day,  on  Christmas  day; 

Oh,  they  sailed  into  Bethlehem 
On  Christmas  day  in  the  morning. 

And  all  the  bells  on  earth  shall  ring 
On  Christmas  day,  on  Christmas  day ; 

And  all  the  bells  on  earth  shall  ring 
On  Christmas  day  in  the  morning. 

And  all  the  angels  in  heaven  shall  sing 
On  Christmas  day,  on  Christmas  dayj 

And  all  the  angels  in  heaven  Saall  sing 
On  Christmas  day  in  the  morning. 

And  all  the  souls  on  earth  shall  sing 
On  Christmas  day,  on  Christmas  day; 

And  all  the  souls  on  earth  shall  sing 
On  Christmas  day  in  the  morning. 

Old  CaroL 


Santa  Claus 

He  comes  in  the  night!     He  comes  in  the 
night ! 
He  softly,  silently  comes; 
While  the  little  brown  heads  on  the  pillows  so 
white 
Are  dreaming  of  bugles  and  drums. 


270  THE   POSY   RING 

He  cuts  through  the  snow  like  a  ship  through 
the  foam, 
While  the  white  flakes  around  him  whirl; 
Who  tells  him  I  know  not,  but  he  findeth  the 
home 
Of  each  good  little  boy  and  girl. 

His  sleigh  it  is  long,  and  deep,  and  wide? 

It  will  carry  a  host  of  things, 
While  dozens  of  drums  hang  over  the  side, 

With  the  sticks  sticking  under  the  strings. 
And  yet  not  the  sound  of  a  drum  is  heard, 

Not  a  bugle  blast  is  blown, 
As  he  mounts  to  the  chimney-top  like  a  bird, 

And  drops  to  the  hearth  like  a  stone. 

The  little  red  stockings  he  silently  fills, 

Till  the  stockings  will  hold  no  more; 
The  bright  little  sleds  for  the  great  snow  hills 

Are  quickly  set  down  on  the  floor. 
Then  Santa  Claus  mounts  to  the  roof  like  a 
bird, 

And  glides  to  his  seat  in  the  sleigh ; 
Not  the  sound  of  a  bugle  or  drum  is  heard 

As  he  noiselessly  gallops  away. 

He  rides  to  the  East,  and  he  rides  to  the  West, 
Of  his  goodies  he  touches  not  one; 


THE   POSY   RING  27* 

He  eateth  the  crumbs  of  the  Christmas  feast 
When  the  dear  little  folks  are  done. 

Old  Santa  Claus  doeth  all  that  he  can ; 
This  beautiful  mission  is  his  ; 

Then,  children,  be  good  to  the  little  old  man, 
When  you  find  who  the  little  man  is. 

Unknown* 

r 

Neighbors  of  the  Christ  Night 

Deep  in  the  shelter  of  the  cave,, 

The  ass  with  drooping  head 
Stood  weary  in  the  shadow,  where 

His  master's  hand  had  led. 
About  the  manger  oxen  lay, 

Bending  a  wide-eyed  gaze 
Upon  the  little  new-born  Babe, 

Half  worship,  half  amaze. 
High  in  the  roof  the  doves  were  set. 

And  cooed  there,  soft  and  mild. 
Yet  not  so  sweet  as,  in  the  hay, 

The  Mother  to  her  Child. 
The  gentle  cows  breathed  fragrant  breath 

To  keep  Babe  Jesus  warm. 
While  loud  and  clears  o'er  hill  and  dale, 

The  cocks  crowed.  "  Christ  is  born  ! " 


272  THE  POSY  RING 

Out  in  the  fields,  beneath  the  stars, 
The  young  lambs  sleeping  lay, 

And  dreamed  that  in  the  manger  slept 
Another,  white  as  they. 


These  were  Thy  neighbors,  Christmas  Child; 

To  Thee  their  love  was  given, 
For  in  Thy  baby  face  there  shone 

The  wonder-light  of  Heaven. 

Nora  Archibald  Smith. 

r 

Cradle  Hymn 

Away  in  a  manger,  no  crib  for  a  bed, 

The  little  Lord  Jesus  laid  down  his  sweet  head. 

The  stars  in  the  bright  sky  looked  down  where 

he  lay — 
The  little  Lord  Jesus  asleep  on  the  hay. 

The  cattle  are  lowing,  the  baby  awakes, 

But  little  Lord  Jesus,  no  crying  he  makes. 

I  love  thee,  Lord  Jesus  !  look  down  from  the 

sky, 
And  stay  by  my  cradle  till  morning  is  nigh. 

Martin  Luther. 

r 


THE  POSY  RING  273 

"JTke  Cliristmas  Holly 

The  holly  1  the  holly !  oh,  twine  it  with  bay — 

Come  give  the  holly  a  song ; 
For  it  helps  to  drive  stern  winter  away, 

With  his  garment  so  sombre  and  long; 
It  peeps  through  the  trees  with  its  berries  of  red, 

And  its  leaves  of  burnished  green, 
When  the  flowers  and  fruits  have  long  been 
dead, 

And  not  even  the  daisy  is  seen. 
Then  sing  to  the  holly,  the  Christmas  holly, 

That  hangs  over  peasant  and  king ; 
While  we  laugh  and  carouse  'neath  its  glittering 
boughs, 

To  the  Christmas  holly  we'll  sing. 

Eliza  Cook. 


INDEX 


Adoration  of  the  Wise  Men, 
The,  257 

All  Things  Bright  and 
Beautiful,  237 

Angel's  Whisper,  The,  139 

Answer  to  a  Child's  Ques- 
tion, 62 

Ant  and  the  Cricket,  The, 
78 

April,  In,  8 

Auld  Daddy  Darkness,  221 

Baby  Corn,  93 

Baby  Seed  Song,  88 
Beau's  Reply,  112 
Bed-Time,  232 
Bells  of  Christmas,  255 
Birdies  with  Broken  Wings0 

133 
Birds  in  Spring,  The,  54 
Birds  in  Summer,  65 
Bird's      Song     in     Spring, 

102 


Birthday  Gift,  A,  267 
Blessing  for  the  Blessed,  A, 


The 


Blind  Boy,  The,  160 
Bluebird,  The,  68 
Blue  Jay,  The,  74 
Boy   and   the  Sheep, 

114 
Boy,  The,  128 
Boy's  Song,  A,  165 
Breeches,  Going  Into, 
Bunch  of  Roses,  A,  155 
Butterflies,  White,  78 
By    Cool    Siloam's    Shady 

Rill,  244 


174 


Camel's  Nose, 
Chanticleer,  72 
Child,  A  Sleeping,  132 
Child  at   Bethlehem,  The, 

155 
Child's  Fancy,  A,  95 
Child's  Grace,  A,  241 


275 


276 


INDEX 


Child's  Laughter,  A,  145 
Child's  Prayer,  A,  252 
Child's  Thought  of  God,  A, 

241 
Children,  Little,  137 
Children,  Other  Little,  123 
Chill,  A,  144 

Christmas  Holly,  The,  278 
Christmas  Lullaby,  A,  267 
Christmas  Silence,  The,  260 
Christmas  Song,  261 
Christmas  Trees,  The,  265 
City  Child,  The,  173 
Cleanliness,  126 
Clouds,  40 
Corn-Fields,  248 
Cottager  to  Her  Infant,  230 
Cow-Boy's  Song,  The,  217 
Cradle  Hymn  (Watts),  258 
Cradle  Hymn  (Luther),  272 

Daffy-Bown-Billy,  91 
Daisy's  Song,  The,  103 
Dandelions,  98 
Day,  A,  28 
Deaf  and  Dumb,  159 
Dear  Little  Violets,  101 
Discontent,  193 
Doll,  Dressing  the,  167 
Doll,  The  Lost,  166 
Dolladine,  167 


Elf  and  the  Dormouse,  The, 
213 


Elf,  The  Little,  188 

Fable,  206 

Fairies  of  the  Caldon-Low, 

The,  209 
Fairies'  Shopping,  The,  204 
Fairies,  The  Child  and  the, 

187 
Fairies,  The  Last  Voyage  of 

the,  184 
Fairy  Folk,  The,  181 
Fairy  in  Armor,  A,  183 
February,  In,  5 
Fern,  A  New,  186 
Fern  Song,  90 
Flax  Flower,  The,  99 
Flower  Folk,  The,  81 
Fountain,  The,  34 

Garaine,  Little,  140 
Garden,  In  a,  151 
Good  Luck,  For,  105 
Good-Morning,  29 
Good-Night      and     Good' 

Morning,  136 
Grass,   The  Voice   of  the, 

m 

Guessing  Song,  45 

Hie  Away,  176 

High  and  Low,  244 

How  the  Leaves  Came  Dovn, 

17 
Hunting  Song,  176 


INDEX 


271 


Infant  Joy,  129 

I  Remember,  I  Remember, 

135 
I  Saw  Three  Ships,  268 

Jack  Frost,  47 

Kitten  and  Falling  Leaves, 
The.  121 

Lady  Moon,  80 
Lamb,  The,  242 
Lamb,  The  Pet,  116 
Lambs  in  the  Meadow,  115 
Land  of  Story-Books,  The, 

172 
Lark  and  the  Rook,  The,  56 
Letter,  A,   to    Lady  Mar- 
garet Cavendish   Holles- 
Harley,   when    a   Child, 
141 
Little  Christsl,  250 
Little  Dandelion,  97 
Little  Gustava,  152 
Little  Land,  The,  148 
Little  White  Lily,  83 
Lobster  Quadrille,  A,  202 
Love  and  the  Child,  142 
Lucy  Gray,  156 
Lullaby  of  an  Infant  Chief, 

226 
Lullaby,  Old  Gaelic,  228 

Magpie's  Nest,  The,  198 
March,  6 


Marjorie's  Almanac,  3 
May,  13 

Meg  Merrilies,  214 
Midsummer  Song,  A,  207 
Milking  Time,  113 
My  Pony,  109 

Nearly  Ready,  7 
Neighbors    of    the    Christ 

Night,  271 
Night,  232 
Night  and  Day,  243 
Nightfall  in  Dordrecht,  233 
Nightingale  and  the  Glow* 

worm,  The,  195 
Now  the  Noisy  Winds  Are 

Still,  33 

Offertory,  An,  261 
O  Lady  Moon,  31 
Old  Gaelic  Lullaby,  228 
«  One,  Two,  Three,"  188 
Owl,  The,  70 

Owl    and    the    Pussy-Cat, 
The,  201 

Pedlar's  Caravan,  The,  170 
Piping   Down    the    Valleys 

Wild,  131 
Play-Time,  163 
Polly,  143 

Rain,  Signs  of,  41 
Rivulet,  The,  46 


278 


INDEX 


Robert  of  Lincoln,  75 
Robin  Redbreast,  54 
Robin  Redbreast,  An  Epi- 
taph on  a,  67 
Rockaby,  Lullaby,  224 
Romance,  215 

St.  Nicholas,  A  Visit  from* 

262 
Sandman,  The,  228 
Santa  Claus,  269 
Sea-Song  from    the   Shore, 

A,  171 
Seal  Lullaby,  113 
September,  16 
Seven  Times  One,  138 
Sheep  and  Lambs,  245 
Shower,  A  Sudden^  43 
Singer,  The,  73 
Sleep,   A  Charm    to    Call, 

231 
Sleep,  My  Treasure,  225 
Snowbird,  The,  57 
Snowdrops,  89 
Snowflakes,  49 
Song  (Keats),  69 
Song  (Peacock),  104 
Spaniel,  On  a,  Called  Beau, 

Killing  a   Young    Bird, 

111 
Spring,  9 

Spring  and  Summer,  14? 
Spring  Song,  7 
Spring,  The  Coming  of,  11 
Spring,  The  Voice  of.  10 


Storm,  After  the,  156 
Strange  Lands,  44 
Summer  Days,  15 
Swallows,  The,  53 
Sweet  and  Low,  227 

Thank   You,   Pretty  Co&, 
114 

Thanksgiving  Day,  196 
Thanksgiving  Fable,  A,  197 
The  Water!  the  Water!  49 
There's  Nothing  Like   the 

Rose,  89 
Thimble,  What  May  Hap- 
pen to  a,  190 
Titmouse,  The,  64 
To  His  Saviour,  a  Child;  A 
Present  by  a  Child,  246 
Tree,  The,  102 

Violet  Bank,  A,  88 

Violet,  The,  90 

Violets,  85 

Voice,  The  Still  Small,  238 

Waterfall,  The,  35 

What   Does    Little    Birdie 

Say  ?  69 
What    May   Happen  to  a 

Thimble,  190 
What  the  Winds  Bring,  29 
What  Would  You  See?  247 
Where  Go  the  Boats?  125 
Who  Stole  the  Bird's  Nest  ? 

59 


INDEX 


279 


Wild  Geese,  71 

Wild  Winds,  32 

Wind    in    a    Frolic,   The, 

38 
Wind,  The,  33 
Windy  Nights,  31 
Winter  Night,  19 
Wishing,  127 


Wonderful  World,  The,  27 
World's  Music,  The,  146 
Wynken,  Blynken,and  Nod, 
222 

Year's  Windfalls,  A  (Ros- 

setti),  20 
Young  Dandelion,  86 


INDEX   OF   FIRST   LINES 


A  baby  was  sleeping,  139 

A  fair  little  girl  sat  under  a  tree, 

136 
A  Fairy  has  found  a  new  fern !  186 
A  happy  mother  stalk  of  corn,  93 
A  nightingale  that  all  day  long,  195 
A  silly  young  cricket,  accustomed  to 

sing,  78 
A  Spaniel,  Beau,  that  fares  like  you, 

111 
All  in  the  April  morning,  245 
All  the  bells  of  heaven  may  ring,  145 
All  things  bright  and  beautiful,  237 
And  when, — its  force  expended,  156 
"And   where    have   you   been,   my 

Mary?"  209 
At  evening  when  the  lamp  is  lit,  172 
Auld  Daddy  Darkness  creeps  frae 

his  hole,  221 
Away  in  a  manger,  no  crib  for  a  bed, 

272 

Baby,  see  the  flowers!  151 
Barefooted  boys  scud  up  the  street, 

43 
Birdies  with  broken  wings,  133 
Blow,  wind,  blow!  19 
Brown  eyes,  straight  nose,  143 
By  cool  Siloam's  shady  rill,  244 

Come  about  the  meadow,  190 
Come  cuddle  close  in  daddy's  coat, 

181 
Come,  my  little  Robert,  near,  126 


Daffy-down-dilly,  91 

Dainty  little  maiden,  whither  would 

you  wander,  173 
Dance  to  the  beat  of  the  rain,  little 

Fern,  90 
Dark  brown  is  the  river,  125 
Day  after  day  her  nest  she  moulded, 

53 
Deep  in  the  shelter  of  the  cave,  271 
Do  you   ask  what  the  birds   say? 

The  sparrow,  the  dove,  62 
Down  in  a  green  and  shady  bed,  90 
Down  in  the  field,  one  day  in  June, 

193 
Down  the  bright  stream  the  Fairies 

float,  184 

Fly,  white  butterflies,  out  to  sea,  78 
For  the  tender  beach  and  the  sapling 

oak,  104 
Found  in  the  garden  dead  in  his 

beauty,  63 

Gallant  and  gay  in  their  doublets 
gray,  53 

Gay  little  Dandelion,  97 

Go,  pretty  child,  and  bear  this  flow- 
er, 246 

God  make  my  life  a  little  light,  252 

Good-bye,  good-bye  to  Summer!  54 

"Good-night,  Sir  Rook!'  said  a  lit- 
tle lark,  56 

Great,  wide,  beautiful,  wonderful 
World,  27 


280 


INDEX  OF  FIRST   LINES 


281 


Hail!     Ho!  171 

He  comes  in  the  night!    He  comes 

in  the  night!  269 
He  lies  on  the  grass,  looking  up  to 

the  sky,  159 
He  put  his  acorn  helmet  on,  183 
Here    I    come    creeping,    creeping 

everywhere,  36 
Hie  away,  hie  away!  176 
How  pleasant  the  life  of  a  bird  must 

be,  65 
Hush,  my  dear,  lie  still  and  slumber, 

258 
Hush!  the  waves  are  rolling  in,  228 
Hushed  are  the  pigeons  cooing  low, 

260 

I  am  coming,  I  am  coming,  10 

I  had  a  dove  and  the  sweet  dove 

died,  69 
"I  have  no  name,"  129 
I  know  a  bank  whereon  the  wild 

thyme  blows,  88 
I  know  the  song  that  the  bluebird  is 

singing,  68 
I  met  a  little  Elf-man,  once,  188 
I  once  had  a  sweet  little  doll,  dears, 

166 
I  remember,  I  remember,  135 
[  saw  a  ship  a-sailing,  215 
[  saw  three  ships  come  sailing  in,  268 
[  wake!     I  feel  the  day  is  near,  72 
[  wish  I  lived  in  a  caravan,  170 
I'll  tell  you  how  the  leaves  came 

down,  17 
I'll  tell  you  how  the  sun  rose,  28 
In  the  rosy  light  trills  the  gay  swal- 
low, 57 
In  the  snowing  and  the  blowing,  7 
Into  the  sunshine,  34 
It  was  a  hungry  pussy  cat,  upon 

Thanksgiving  morn,  197 
It  was  an  old,  old,  old,  old  lady,  188 

Joy  to  Philip!  he  this  day,  174 


Lady  Moon,  Lady  Moon,  where  are 

you  roving?  30 
"  Lazy  sheep,  pray  tell  me  why,"  114 
Lips,  lips,  open,  132 
Little  brown  brother,  oh!  little  brown 

brother,  88 
Little  Gustava  sits  in  the  sun,  152 
Little    Kings    and    Queens    of  the 

May,  105 
Little  ladies,  white  and  green,  89 
Little  lamb,  who  made  thee?  242 
Little  white  Lily,  83 
Long,  long  before  the  Babe  could 

speak,  155 
Lullaby  of  an  Infant  Chief,  226 

Marjorie's  Almanac,  3 

May  shall  make  the  world  anew,  13 

Merrily  swinging  on  brier  and  weed, 

75 
"  Mooly  cow,  mooly  cow,  home  from 

the  wood,"  217 
My  noble,  lovely,  little  Peggy,  141 
My  pony  toss'd  his  sprightly  head, 

109 

Now  the  noisy  winds  are  still,  33 

O  Blue  Jay  up  in  the  maple-tree,  74 
O   Lady   Moon,   your  horns   point 

toward  the  east,  31 
O  Lark!  sweet  lark!  73 
O  little  flowers,  you  love  me  so,  95 
O  little  lambs,  the  month  is  cold,  115 
O,   say,   what  is  that  thing  called 

Light,  160 
Oft  I  had  heard  of  Lucy  Gray,  156 
Oh,  father's  gone  to  market-town :  he 

was  up  before  the  day,  207 
Oh  ho!  oh  ho!     Pray,  who  can  I  be ? 

45 
Oh,  hush  thee,  my  babie,  thy  sire 

was  a  knight,  226 
Oh,  hush  thee,  my  baby,  the  night  is 

behind  us,  113 
Oh,  oh,  how  the  wild  winds  blow!  32 


282 


INDEX  OF   FIRST  LINES 


Oh,  the  beauty  of  the  Christ  Child. 

261 
Oh,  the  little  flax  flower,  99 
Old  Meg  she  was  a  gypsy,  214 
On  the  wind  of  January,  20 
Once    in    his    shop    a    workman 

wrought,  240 
Over  the  river  and  through  the  wood, 

196 

....  Piped  a  tiny  voice  hard  by,  64 
Piping  down  the  valleys  wild,  131 

Ring-ting!  I  wish  I  were  a  Primrose, 

127 
Robins  in  the  tree-top,  3 
Rockaby,  lullaby,  bees  on  the  clover! 

224 
Run,  little  rivulet,  run!  46 

Saw  you  never  in  the  twilight,  257 
See  the  kitten  on  the  wall,  121 
Sir,  when  I  flew  to  seize  the  bird,  112 
Sleep,    baby,    sleep!    The   Mother 

sings,  267 
Sleep,  Sleep,  come  to  me,  Sleep,  231 
Sleep,  sleep,  my  treasure,  225 
Slowly  forth  from  the  village  church, 

250 
Some  hae  meat  and  canna  eat,  241 
Sporting   through  the  forest  wide, 

137 
Spring  comes  hither,  7 
Spring  is  growing  up,  14 
Spring,    the    sweet    Spring,    is    the 

year's  pleasant  king,  54 
Sweet  and  low,  sweet  and  low,  227 

Thank  you,  pretty  cow,  that  made, 
114 

The  alder  by  the  river,  9 

The  birds  have  been  singing  to- 
day, 5 

The  Boy  from  his  bedroom  window, 
128 


The  cock  is  crowing,  6 

The  days  are  cold,  the  nights  are 

long,  230 
The  dew  was  falling  fast,  the  stars 

began  to  blink,  116 
The  Frost  looked  forth  on  a  stilL, 

clear  night,  47 
The  goldenrod  is  yellow,  16 
The  hollow  winds  began  to  blow,  41 
The  holly !  the  holly !  oh,  twine  it  with 

bay,  273 
The  lily  has  an  air,  89 
The  mill  goes  toiling  slowly  around, 

233 
The  mountain  and  the  squirrel,  206 
The  Owl  and  the  Pussy-Cat  went  to 

sea,  201 
The  poplar  drops  beside  the  way,  8 
The  rosy  clouds  float  overhead,  228 
The  rosy  mouth  and  rosy  toe,  155 
The  showers  fall  as  softly,  244 
The  silver  birch  is  a  dainty  lady,  102 
The  sky  is  full  of  clouds  to-day,  40 
The  snow  is  white,  the  wind  is  cold, 

232 
The  sun,  with  his  great  eye,  103 
The    Tree's    early    leaf-buds    were 

bursting  their  brown,  102 
The  Water!  the  Water!  49 
The    wild    wind    blows,    the   sun 

shines,  the  birds  sing  loud,  71 
The  wind  has  a  language,  I  would 

I  could  learn,  33 
The  wind  one  morning  sprang  up 

from  sleep,  38 
The  woods  are  full  of  fairies!  187 
The  world's  a  very  happy  place,  146 
The  year's  at  the  Spx-ing,  29 
There's  a  stir  among  the  trees,  265 
There's  no  dew  left  on  the  daisies 

and  clover,  133 
There's  something  in  the  air,  11 
They  say  that  God  lives  very  high! 

241 
This  is  her  picture — Dolladine,  T67 
This  is  the  way  we  dress  the  Doll,  167 


INDEX   OF   FIRST   LINES 


283 


Tinkle,  tinkle!  35 

'Tis  bed-time;  say  your  hymn,  and 

bid  "Good-night,"  232 
"To-whit!  to-whit!  to-whee!"  59 
Toys,  and  treats,  and  pleasures  pass, 

142 
Tread   lightly   here;   for   here,    'tis 

said,  67 
'Twas  the  night  before  Christmas, 

when  all  through  the  house,  262 

Under  a  toadstool,  213 

Under  the  green  hedges  after  the 

snow,  101 
Up,  up!  ye  dames  and  lasses  gav! 

176 
Upon  a  showery  night  and  still,  98 

Violets,  violets,  sweet  March  violets 
85 

Wee  Sandy  in  the  corner,  238 
What  can  I  give  him,  267 
What  can  lambkins  do,  144 
What  does  little  birdie  say  ?  69 
What  would  you  see  if  I  took  you  up, 

247 
When  at  home  alone  I  sit,  148 
When  cats  run  home  and  light  is 

come,  70 
When  I  run  about  all  day,  243 


When  on  the  breath  of  Autumn's 

breeze,  248 
When  the  Arts  in  their  infancy  were, 

198 
When  the  cows  come  home  the  milk 

is  coming,  113 
When  the  sun  has  left  the  hilltop, 

129 
Whenever   a   snowflake   leaves   the 

sky,  49 
Whenever  the  moon  and  stars  are 

set,  31 
"Where  do   the   stars   grow,   little 

Garaine?"  140 
Where  do  you  come  from,  Mr.  Jay? 

44 
Where  do  you  think  the  Fairies  go, 

204 
Where    the   pools   are  bright  and 

deep,  165 
Which  is  the  Wind  that  brings  the 

cold,  29 
Why  do  bells  for  Christmas  ring? 

261 
"Will  you  walk  a  little  faster?  "  said 

a  whiting  to  a  snail,  202 
Winter  is  cold-hearted,  15 
Wynken,    Blynken,   and   Nod   one 

night,  222 

Young  Dandeli 


n  about  all  day,  sJ43  loung  JJandeliop,  oo 

Pu  He  Library  ;^wnrk,  N.fc  < 


111 

s 


